Storm
by Momo's World
Summary: TEMPORARY TITLE When Hermione Granger is attacked by Antonin Dolohov in the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, a secret about her life is revealed that she had wanted to keep hidden forever. Follow her as she takes the journey to discover and accept the person that she is and makes several unlikely friends along the way. Noncanon, AU, EWE
1. Adad

They often said that when you keep something in the dark, it always came to the light, and staring at the hurt that flashed before her best friend's face, she knew it to be true. The pain was nearly unbearable, so much that she could barely focus on breathing, but she knew that she _had_ to survive, if not only for him. A fresh wave of pain shot through her as she felt her eyes widening, her back aching into the air as the massive gash in her chest throbbed, a wet patch in her muggle jeans telling her that she'd managed to wet herself. Even when he turned to focus on sending curses and hexes this way and hat, the pain in them didn't go away. He would forgive her if she just outright told him everything, this she knew, but she wouldn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to see his smile, to make him happy ever again, but she still would, if it was the last thing she did. It was his smile that made the world a better place and _god_ , if the world didn't need to be a better place.

It was the fire in his emerald eyes that drove her to her feet, her wand held firm as she grit her teeth against the pain that the sadistic Russian Death Eater had inflicted upon her. Dolohov's eyes widened as she rose, her eyes connecting with his as she rose her wand shakily. He was a threat, a threat to Harry, to her friends. He was threat to a world worth living in and he needed to be eliminated.

As if someone had sensed the dark path her thoughts began to take, a jet of red light shot past her, hitting the dark wizard square in the chest, successfully incapacitating him. As her head turned, she was meet with the cold, azure gaze of the madwoman of Azkaban herself, Bellatrix Lestrange. Fifteen years in Azkaban had taken a toll on the witch that many could never fathom, yet she came out, strong, but broken.

Confusion blossomed on the young witch's face, but she did not dwell on it, quickly ducking a stray _Avada_ that flew over her head, barely touching her before a chill settled over her body. Hopping to her feet, she threw a volley of curses at a random Death Eater with his back to her as another throb went through her body, accompanied by the dull ache that came with the Dark magic that fought to corrupt her. He was strong, that Dolohov, and her body was showing it. She quickly tired, falling to her knees and erecting a shield around herself as her body crumpled to the ground.

When she woke, her body ached fiercely, all save for her hand. She looked down at it and saw that another hand clutched to hers, her eyes following up the pale, lightly freckled arm to reveal her best friend, Harry Potter. Relief spread through her chest as she reached out her free arm and stroked his sleeping face with a heavy hand, a smile ghosting across her face as he blinked sleepily, looking around the room and jumping when he caught a glimpse of her. After a few moments, he seemed to gather himself, pulling his hand away from hers and lowering his head into his open palms. His fingers dug into the wild mop of inky black hair he was known for, tugging slightly at the roots. She did her best to hide the hurt that flashed across her face, her head hanging as she stared at her hands, which she wrung nervously.

"Why did you lie?" She looked up at him, startled that he had even spoken to her. "I didn't lie, I swear I didn't. I just," she lifted her hands in frustration before shaking her head. "It's a lot to explain, but I'm sure you don't want to hear that. I've broken your trust, I'd be grateful if you ever looked at me again," she said, unable to keep the hitch from her voice.

Harry was her dearest friend, she valued him over anyone, over her life, her _stupid life_ that had ruined their friendship and she was going to lose him. He looked up at her with a confused expression, but she went on. "I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to speak to me again, I'm so ashamed," she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and she let out a choked sob, her dark locks falling over her shoulders as she felt her heart thumping in her chest.

"Hermione, listen to me." His slightly larger hands gripped hers and she could feel the years of quidditch and hard work in them, her eyes lifting to meet his. She watched as he inhaled sharply, shaking his head before he continued. "Hermione Granger, you are my sister. You have stuck with me through thick and thin and you have never turned your back on me. Do you think so lowly of me that you would assume I would turn my back on you because of something like this?" The tremor in his voice gathered her immediate attention and her heart broke with the sadness he held there, sadness that _she_ caused. Shaking her head vigorously, she ignored her side screaming in protest as she wrapped her arms around his thin frame, tears falling freely down her face. "No, I would never. I just betrayed you and I was deceitful, Harry. I would never think lowly of you, I swear on my magic." She felt him relax at her words, but she meant them.

When they separated, he noticed the grimace in her face, reaching to her bedside table, grasping the phial that Madame Pomfrey left there. "She said to take a sip of this, but no more." She nodded in agreement, throwing the potion back and relaxing once the pain subsided. When she was finally able to move normally, he smiled to her, sitting back in his chair. "Now how about we start from the beginning," he gently states, grabbing the glass on the side of her bed, casting a perfect, _argumenti_ , cool clear liquid cascading from his wand before handing it over to her. She drank from the cup of cool liquid, sighing and falling back into her bed, the extra pillows provided for her preventing her from having a backache as she allowed her mind to wander to places it hadn't gone to for quite some time.

"I meant what I said, I didn't lie to you, I just wasn't completely honest. My name is Hermione Granger, but my birth name is Adad Dimitriou. I hail from a Grecian pureblood family and they were proud of their heritage. They were also proud believers in blood supremacy. My father wanted a son, but I was born, but he still wanted to give me a name befitting of a strong son, as well as poke fun at my gender. My mother often took pity on me and she would call me Adaline, but I hated it. After a while, she settled with calling me Ada, which is still a bit ironic because Ada means father. When my parents found out that I didn't follow the rules of blood purity, I was seven years old. My parents had gone out of the country and I was left in the care of the house Elves. They would be gone a month, so I had to entertain myself outside of my studies." A shadow crossed over her face as Harry watched her intently, watching as a myriad of emotions crossed her face.

"Her name was Lyra," she stated, a smile on her face. "I didn't know her very well, but I loved her and I wanted her to be my wife." His eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline as he looked at her, but she was lost in her memories. "She was so beautiful, I was taken with her immediately. She had," she paused, a wide grin spreading across her face as she pulled her hair into her hands, deep auburn locks that seemed to shine even in the moonlight. "She had the most beautiful black hair that fell to her waist. It felt like the softest wool, shaved from the most beautiful sheep that God could find. She had," she paused again, touching her fingers to her pale skin, though it seemed as if the sun had ghosted it's lips across her skin, giving it a slight tan, most likely from spending summers in France with her parents. ",the most beautiful dark skin. It was as if god made her of fresh, spring earth and sunlight. She was tall and willowy, with a grace that I now know was far beyond her years. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on, and she was _mines_. I would play with her every single day, and I proposed to her in our gardens. I was so nervous, I thought she would say no, that she didn't love me, and when I asked her, she had the biggest, happiest smile on her face, and she said _yes._ " She looked at him, and he saw tears shining in her eyes, a stray managing to fall as she beamed at him. "She said _yes_ Harry, and my heart nearly exploded".

"We were married by noon. The House Elves held a ceremony for us and it was just the purest, most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. I wore my favorite princess gown, gifted to me by my grandmother. It was an exact replica of Cinderella's from the storybooks. She wore a dress so simple and pure, it fit her perfectly. A plain, white dress with lace embroidered sleeves with bare feet. She cried when we got to the altar and when I asked her why, she said that she was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she didn't have any money to buy a beautiful gown and I told her that she was the most beautiful thing in the world and that I wouldn't change her for all my daddy's galleons. They pronounced us and she kissed me on the cheek and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world." She laughed wetly, dabbing her eyes with the corners of her blanket. "I was so blind, so foolish, but I was so _happy._ Even now, it's the happiest I've ever been, and when I cast my patronus, it's what I think of." She sighed, but a frown touched her face and he knew then that the story would take a dark turn.

"When my parents made it back into town, I was quick to tell them that I had gotten married, my mother thought it was the most adorable thing in the world, but my father was not amused." She ran a stray hand along her arm, her fingertips caressing her soft skin. "He demanded to know who and I told him about Lyra, how she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and how I loved her so. He demanded that I bring her to him, if we were going to be married, and agreed, fucking idiot I was," she said, the tears that fell down her face having nothing to do with the smile that once held residence. "When we entered the room, my father said he wanted to speak to Lyra alone, that he wanted to ask her if she really loved me, and though I was reluctant to go, my mother pulled me out and I told Lyra that I would be waiting for her and that I loved her. When the door closed, I didn't hear anything else, not knowing that he had silenced the room."

"The things he did to her, I never thought him capable. Her bones were broken, her skin was bruised, there was blood pouring from places that I never knew blood could come from. She lay there, not even able to speak, not even able to tell me what he did to her. I rushed to her aid, covering her body with my own to protect her, to never let him hurt her again. And that was when i had my first _powerful_ surge of accidental magic. He approached us, cane in hand, and my magic began to burn. God, it was the worst feeling I had ever experienced. I screamed, louder than I ever had, and he fell to the ground in pain, horrid shrieks coming from him at pitches I never thought possible. My body tired quickly, and before I knew it, I was being knocked across the floor. My father beat me in a way that still gives me nightmares at times," she said, running a hand across her cheek, and he could see the faintest hint of a scar long gone. "But through it all, I fought, because I had to protect Lyra. I loved her and I would have died for her." He stared in awe at the fierce look that shone in her dark eyes, though a light hazel had come from her whiskey gaze.

"When I was unable to fight any longer and he thought he had broken my spirit, he told me that he was going to teach me what happened to muggle lovers in our world. He," she started, the woods catching in the throat, but Harry knew where this was going. Yet even though he knew where this would go, he wanted her to _say_ it. Say what her father did. Horor was etched into her face at what she was remembering, her slender fingers touching her pouty lips as tears rolled down her face. When she gathered herself, she spoke. "He pulled out his wand and used that spell. That _horrid_ spell, and just like that, in a flash of green light, she was gone." Her hand clutched to the locket that hung between her full breasts, the cleavage visible in the light of the moon. It was in the shape of a heart and he didn't doubt that there was a picture of Hermione and Lyra, young and smiling in it. She cleared her throat, looking up at him, her gaze boring into his.

"After that moment, I hated my parents. I never wanted to be like them, the people who took my love away from me. I vowed I would have my revenge, but I never got it. My father threatened to disown me, but my mother begged for me to be spared, begged him not to take me away from her, not realizing that he'd already done that. He'd taken me away from them both." She wiped her tears with her hand, reaching out to grab his hand again, which he freely offered.

"Two months after Lyra's passing, I was finally able to bury her properly. My parents had simply paid to have her put in a box and stuffed in the ground somewhere, but when they left for Rome, the House Elves helped me dig her up, and thankfully, one of them had secretly put her under a stasis charm. It was that day when I found out what my family magic was." He looked confused at that, but he allowed her to continue without interruption.

"When I pulled her out of the box, she came to life in my arms, and I was so afraid. She screamed and she thrashed, and I was so terrified, I wet myself. It was in that time that the House Elves, brilliant creatures that they were, managed to free her from my grip, pop all of her bones back in place, getting her into a coffin of my choosing and laying her to rest. I buried her in her wedding gown, the one she wore when we joined our hearts, and I cleaned her body, careful not to touch her with my bare skin as I did so. I was so careful with her, so that she would not come back to her pain, to not be the cause of her pain. We buried her in the gardens in my wing of the manor, surrounded by the most beautiful white roses, and the elves charmed them to stay beautiful year round, so I could see her every morning when I woke.

"A week after I was finally able to give Lyra a proper resting place, I received the news that my parents were dead, that their boat had been destroyed in a storm and my father pushed my mother off of a life raft to save himself and without his wand, he went mad until he was found washed up on the shores of Italy, delirious, starving, and extremely dehydrated. He died because he refused to accept the care of muggle doctors." She chuckled, looking out the window. "Ironic, is it not?" She looked over to Harry and saw that he didn't find it funny in the least, and she felt horrid, smiling about how her parents had died at sea, her mother practically murdered by her father and he father starving to death because of his own prejudice. Taking a deep breath, she continued her tale.

"As my grandmother was unable to care for me and I had no other family, I was placed in an orphanage. Being there really humbled me and I didn't realize how much of an entitled little bastard that I was. I noticed then that I could not see beyond myself and my own desires, and I was deeply ashamed. I managed to make a few friends there and that made my time a little easier, but then, _they_ came." A wide smile crossed her face as she looked at her fingers. "Josephine and Harold Granger. She was so beautiful, with her wild hair, untamable and free, and him, with his put together appearance. They looked like they didn't belong together, but I could see the love in their eyes for each other. Then she saw me." She choked up slightly as she remembered. "It was my mum, with her large, whiskey colored eyes, her silver spectacles, the lenses tinted pink. She wore a tye dyed tee shirt, bell bottom jeans, and she had a bandana around her head, pink, just like her glasses, and the most insane pair of silver platform boots that went up to her thighs. She was a _character_ and I loved everything about her. Then there was him. He wore a crisp white button up shirt, a black blazer, black slacks, and the most impeccable black shoes that shone bright in the sun. His hair was short, closely cropped to his head, and the deepest shade of black that I had seen, and when I saw them, I knew that they were going to be my mum and dad."

"When they said that they wanted to be my parents, I cried like a baby. Mum hugged me so tight, I thought she would break me, and within a few weeks, they became my family. The house was small and they didn't make much money, as they were college students, but I loved it. I had my own room and Mum painted it black for me, with big, beautiful white roses painted on the walls. I have always had an obsession with the color black that I can never shake. And never shiny. A solid, matte finish was all that I needed."

"One day, I had a night terror, as I was prone to from time to time, and Mum woke me up, and I told her everything. I told her about magic, I told her about Lyra, I told her about it all, and I never forget the way she looked at me when I told her. She told me that I had nothing to worry about, that she knew about magic, as it was what initially drew her to me. Then, she asked me to tell her about Lyra, as I had spoken her name a few times, but I never went into detail about her or what our relationship was. When I explained to her how much I loved her and how we got married, she'd chuckled and explained to me that I didn't love Lyra the way that I thought I had, but that Lyra was simply my best friend. I was confused, as I'd had friends at the orphanage, and they never made me feel they way that Lyra did, and she explained to me the joys of having a best friend, how they were not the same as normal friends. Then she told me that the pain was temporary, and that soon, I would have a new best friend that wouldn't replace her, but would change my life for the better, and that I simply needed to be patient, and she was right. Because I found _you_ , Harry Potter." He gave her a shocked look when she took his hands into her own, squeezing them so tightly that he thought they would go numb and fall off. As if she was sensing his confusion, she explained it to him.

"You see, Mum is a squib, but she is a gifted Seer. That's why I'm so pissed off about Trelawney all the time and refuse to take her class, it's because she makes a mockery of Divination, playing it for a joke and issuing out fake prophecies when someone feels themselves entitled enough to piss her off.. My mother has woken up, unable to breathe and in tears because of her visions, visions that my father help her get through. He's an empath, you see. Even though they are squibs, they can use their family magick. They are from families that did not shun them for being squibs, but they chose to leave anyway, as they felt that they didn't truly belong. I begged for her to change my name, that I didn't want to be Adad anymore, and they changed it to Hermione. It was in a series of names and when I heard it, I just knew that was my name. It was the most beautifully unique sound that had ever reached my ears and I had to have it." She smiled, love and adoration in her eyes for him as she stroked his cheek with her palm.

"I love you, Harry Potter. You are my brother and I would die to protect you. None of my injuries are your fault, none of my pain is because of you. It is _for_ you. I bleed _for_ you, I cry _for_ you. Never think that I could ever resent you for this." He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him, sitting back in her seat. "Now go to bed and think about what I've said. I know you will never hate me, but I want you to think about what I've said and come back in the morning, afternoon, or whenever you feel the need to. I will be here, and I will be waiting." He nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead, grabbing his invisibility cloak and making his exit. Before he left, he turned and whispered to her, "I love you, Hermione." She smiled widely, her eyes drooping slightly as she listened to him leave, the heavy door cracking and closing as he went. Only then, when she was sure that he was gone, did she allow the guilt to run rampant within her and the tears to fall as she sobbed quietly.

 **Concerning what her family magic is, this is not Potterverse, simply something of my own creation. Every pureblood family possesses an ancient magic, or magick, that they can tap into that is particular to that family. They are known to be things that now fall under the terms of "Dark Magic", but it's simply magick. For the Dimitriou family, it's necromancy. I'll add other families whenever I see fit to imagine what the family magicks are for particular families, like the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Notts, Zabinis(Already know what I want their magick to be), and the Weasleys. And two different ancient families can have the same magick as well.**

 **Concerning Hermione and Lyra. Hermione's feelings for Lyra are not romantic. You see, Hermione knows that she does in fact love Lyra, but she doesn't know what platonic or non-familial love is. The only experiences she had with love is what she saw going on with her parents, or how much she loved her grandmother. She'd never felt love for someone that wasn't her family, so she feels that when two people that aren't related. Say that they love each other, that means that they are in love with each other. Before Lyra, she had no friends other than her house elves, and even then she felt that they were an extension of her family. It's why she was so confused when her mum explained it to her.**


	2. Bully Blues

It took three days before Harry returned to her, and in those three days, though she expected the alone time to be boring, she was most definitely proved wrong. Neville visited her, sweet Neville, and brought her a few books from the library that he thought she would like, centering around medicinal wizarding herbs and runes, both of which she had read before the night was out. She also managed to be good for classworks, as she had completed it ahead of schedule, long before she had gone to the DoM. She was making a steady recovery and Madame Pomfrey alerted her that she would likely been up and walking around by the next week. She also managed to write a letter to her mum and dad, explaining all that happened and how she had finally confessed to Harry. They had yet to write back, but she was more than certain that she would be receivia letter rather soon, as her eccentric mother always had a list of holistic methods of self-healing at hand, as well as paragraph upon paragraph of worry.

On the second day, she received the most unsuspecting visitor to her small, closed off section f the hospital, and that person was none other than local Slytherin gossip queen, Pansy Parkinson. She was a bit loopy on the medications that she was taking, having accidentally ingested too much when a particularly nasty pain ripped through her side and she was as _high_ as a kite, but she didn't want the other girl knowing that.

When she entered, the smirk she once bore fell from her face as she looked the former bushy haired bookworm in the face. She opened her mouth to speak, likely to make a scathing comment, but she couldn't simply standing there and glaring, Hermione resisting the urge to laugh in her face. "Please, sit down, make yourself at home." Draped over her legs was a thick blanket that had been sent from Mrs. Weasley and it simply smelled like _home_. Not her home, per se, but it made her feel loved. It was decorated in warm, earthy tones, and some special household charm kept the heat out. Running her hands over it, she forced herself to focus on her visitor. "Pardon me for being a bad host, but I'm not particularly feeling myself right now," she said, her voice sounding foreign even to her, a result of too much pain potion. The voice sounded like it belonged more to Luna Lovegood than herself, but she continued on, lifting her gaze to what was once considered her exact opposite as the Gryffindor Princess, a name that seemed to be a step up from the Gryffindor Mudblood. Pansy was the Slytherin Princess, Pureblood Princess, Pug Face.

"H-how?" She smiled slightly, letting her head fall back against the wall that the iron framed hospital bed was pushed up against. "How did I look like this? Well, I've always looked like this. Not much has really changed," she said, though she herself didn't know, as she hadn't looked at herself. She didn't feel any different, and other than a change of hair and paler skin due to the sheer amount of sunlight she was deprived of as a child, as well as a few more… assets, nothing felt different. Her bone structure felt the same, save for her nose, her cute button nose was gone and replace with the straight, aristocratic nose. The Parkinson heir straightened her chin, putting her nose in the air as she looked down at her. "You're still a filthy Mudblood," she spat, though the venom did none more than make the young Dimitriou heir smile, and she knew that had she not been under the influence of the potion that kept her from spending her nights in sheer agony, she would have stupidly leaped from her bed and hexed the female Slytherin until she begged for mercy.

"Honestly, I think you should come up with more creative insults than calling me a Mudblood, Parkinson." She let her eyes travel down to the slytherin's wand arm, where she clutched the conduit tightly. "You came in here to insult me when you assumed me to be at my worst and then hex me when I could not defend myself." It wasn't a question, simply a statement. "How Slytherin of you, coming into a fight that you are guaranteed to win because no odds are stacked against you and they're all against me. Here I am, poor, unarmed Muggleborn Hermione Granger, laying in a hospital bed, helpless bird that I am," she said, a laugh in her voice as she moved to adjust herself, the room spinning slightly.

"You are absolutely pathetic," she managed out once she finished her small laughing fit. "You are one of the most beautiful students in the entire school, quite grown into your features. You hail from a rich pureblood legacy with all the respect that comes with it, but you are so incompetent that instead of dueling me, earning your respect and the admiration of your peers, you would attack me when I cannot attack you." She watched the girl raise her wand, her hand trembling slightly as she made eye contact with her. She held it shortly before turning her head and looking out the window.

"You are insecure. Pug faced Pansy Parkinson, nothing special to look at, sos he depends on her vaults and her family's influence to get what she wants. You don't even hear the things that people say about you. They call you a slag, loose, throwing yourself from one man to the next because in their eyes, that is all you're good for, being nothing but a purebred whore. You will never marry and your bastard children will hate you. You're stupid, you're a pathetic excuse for a witch, and the world would be a better place without you." She heard the sound of the Parkinson heir's wand clattering to the floor as she fled the hospital wing, Hermione turning to look at the door when she slammed it behind her, taking a deep breath as she scratched the edges of the itching scar on her chest. She knew those words would have a severe impact on the Parkinson heir because they were not _hers._ She didn't fear her doing something drastic, for if there was one thing she did know and grudgingly respect about Pansy Parkinson, it was that she is made up of tough stuff, as her father would say, and she would bounce back. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back onto one of the pillows, and her mind to drift off to Dreamland.

How did she know?! As she fled through the halls of Hogwarts, she heard many whispers that wondered just who had made Pansy Parkinson so upset that she would cry, and how they could thank that person. She never expected anyone to hear that, and of all people, Hermione _bloody fucking_ Granger. She could remember the ay as if it were just yesterday, and not an entire year before.

 _They say that sex was bliss, but the post coital haze that came with sex was much better in her opinion. I was in that moment, that she truly achieved peace. No matter who she was with, she never loved sex like she did when it was over and she was recovering from the bliss of an orgasm. There was heavy breathing, intimate touching, just comfortable silence, but when it was over, she hated it._

 _The first time she gave herself to a man, it was Marcus Flint. He was a right bastard. He was too rough, he hurt her, and there was blood, but she had been conditioned to think that that was normal, that men were selfish creatures and they took what they wanted if you did not give it to them. He'd told her everything that she'd wanted to hear, called her beautiful. In her young, thirteen-year-old mind, he was wooing her in the best of ways._

 _After they had slept together, she assumed that they were dating, that he loved her, but the hideous bastard had used her. She was furious when she heard from an older prefect that a Gryffindor prefect caught him in a broom closet with some halfblood from ravenclaw. She demanded to know just what the bloody hell he thought he was doing, when he laughed in her face. He laughed, and told her that she shouldn't be so stupid. That hideous BASTARD had the audacity to laugh at her when he had STOLEN her virtue away from her. And to make matters worse, he had said it in front of everyone, called her a quick lay, a way to pass the time. Their jeers, their whispered insults had her world crashing down, and it was then that she realized that she was in a pit of vipers, who would do any and everything to rid themselves of competition in the future. with that knowledge, she fled to the only place she knew that she would have privacy, which was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom._

 _That night, she got a Howler so fierce from her father, she thought that it would shake the entire castle. He told her she was ruined, called her a harlot, and a plethora of names that she'd hoped to forget. He said that no one would marry her, that she may as well get used to lying on her back because it was all she would be good for. The rumour mill had carried the stories to his ears, and in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she broke down and cried herself out. When she rose to her feet, that was when she looked at her reflection. Pug nose, childhood baby fat not yet completely gone, mascara running down her cheeks in wet, black trails. Glaring at her mirror, she bared her teeth at herself._

" _You are insecure. Pug faced Pansy Parkinson, nothing special to look at, sos he depends on her vaults and her family's influence to get what she wants. You don't even hear the things that people say about you. They call you a slag, loose, throwing yourself from one man to the next because in their eyes, that is all you're good for, being nothing but a purebred whore. You will never marry and your bastard children will hate you. You're stupid, you're a pathetic excuse for a witch, and the world would be a better place without you." As she continued to berate herself, she heard the sound of footsteps, immediately whipping out her wand and turning to the door, but whoever was there was either gone or disillusioned._

She was there again, in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, crying her eyes out. She hated Hermione Granger, the stupid fucking _Mudblood._ She always thought she was better than anyone, with her giant teeth and untamable hair, but the woman that she saw was the epitome of beautiful, with her long, auburn hair, pale skin, heart shaped face, and perfect teeth. she looked more like a pureblood princess that Pansy and she couldn't help but stare. When she went to the hospital wing, she expected Granger to be there, ready to fight. he'd intentionally picked a fight with her, but she was not prepared for what the Gryffindor Princess dealt to her. It was a blow to not only her pride, but her heart. That moment was private, and Granger had seen her at her lowest, yet until that moment, she never brought it up, never used it against her when she and her friends were throwing insults t her. Patting her side for her wand, she gasped when she realized that she didn't have it. A million thoughts went through her mind before she came to the realization that she had left her wand. Steeling her nerves, she made her way back to the hospital wing, her head held high as she went to face Granger, sure not to let the Mudblood know that she had gotten to her. she was Pansy Parkinson. solid as a rock.

When she entered the hospital wing and walked to granger's area, she was surprised to see the bookworm fast asleep, her chest rising and falling slightly as she sat there. On her bedside table was Pansy's wand, with a small note tied to it. Picking it up, she recognized Granger's loopy script, and the note simply said, _Sleep well._ Shaking off her strange feeling, she turned on her heel, making her abrupt leave.

"So I've heard some rather interesting things through the ever so reliable Hogwarts gossip mill." She looked up from her potions' book, a small coming to her face as her messy haired friend entered the room.

"Oh? Since when do you follow the talk of the school?" He smirked, falling heavily in the chair next to her, dropping his school books on the floor. He looked like he had taken her words to heart, got himself a bit of rest and rethought the conversation that they'd had.

"Since I heard from Lavender Brown of all people that you and Pansy Parkinson got in a duel last night, and you hexed the Parkinson so extensively, that, and I do quote, 'the Snake Queen slithered out of the hospital wing crying cold tears of shame.'" She searched his face to see if there was any sign that he'd just made that up before bursting out in laughter at the very idea.

When she calmed herself, she took a deep breath, pleasantly pleased that she didn't hurt as much as she'd anticipated, a sign that her potions regiment and attempt at walking with the help of the iron framing of the beds in the hospital wing were working wonders. She was nowhere near being fully healed, but this was progress. Taking a deep breath, she looked over at Harry, not wanting to be the one to address the missing redhead elephant in the room. Instead, she chose to address an issue closer to home. "How is Sirius?" She didn't expect the wave of sadness that seemed to have falling over him, a frown coming to her face as his shoulders drooped and his head hung.

"He hasn't woken up." Shaking her head, she runs her hands over the blanket draped over her legs. Sirius had been hit with some unknown curse that rendered him in what was essentially a magical coma and everyone was scrambling to do everything that they could to save the Head of the Most Ancient and Nobile House of Black. From what Neville had told her when he'd brought her things, instead of Ginny, wh he said was going to bring her things, but she had to study, Harry was taking it hard, especially after he thought that Bellatrix killed Sirius in a rage when he was taunting her. She knew it was a blatant lie, what he said about Ginny as Neville tended to blink rapidly when he was lying. With three quick blinks, she knew he was fibbing, but she didn't dwell on it, her thoughts drifting to Harry, who was likely suffering internally as he usually did.

Reaching out to grasp his hand, she opened her mouth to address the topic, but a tapping on the window distracted the both of them, Harry going to the window and pulling it open, a small boreal owl swooping in and dropping a thickly wrapped parcel into her lap. She groaned at the seal that held it closed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a frown. She felt Harry's eyes on her as she pulled the packaging open, revealing two small letters, accompanied by a black velvet bag that likely held the signet ring that her father once wore. Not wanting to put it on, she dropped it back into the parcel that it had come from. The owl landed by her head, cooing at her as she took a deep breath.

"This is Babo, she's the owl that belongs to my family solicitor, he sends me a letter once a year, when I go to school, but for some reason, he feels the need to send another." No one knew about his letters, as they were always accompanied by letters from her parents, so to not draw suspicion, but now, he wasn't. Picking up the first letter, she recognized the man's sharp and elegant script, pulling it out and sniffing the paper by habit. He always sent her letters on scented paper, her heart soaring when she realized that it was peach scented, one of her favorites, save for his bergamot scented ones. Putting it at a length from her face, she began to read silently.

 _Adad_

 _I hope this letter reaches you in good health, as I have heard the most ridiculous tale imaginable. It has been whispered in many of the elite circles that Antonin Dolohov attacked one Hermione Granger a few days ago in the Department of Mysteries. I simply laughed it off until I read the newspapers this morning announcing the return of Lord Voldemort after he infiltrated the ministry._

 _I was still in denial about the attack, but then I got a letter from Harmoni telling me that your glamour had been lifted and it was too much to ignore, so I must ask that you confirm at least your safety._

 _You are the last of an ancient and well respected pureblood house. I know that you do not care for your familial history, but it is important and it will follow you until the day you die, whether you want it to or not. With that being said, you cannot afford to simply be reckless and putting your life in danger to protect your friends when you have the common sense to plan ahead for almost any and every possible outcome. Let this be a warning for the future. You cannot protect your friends if you are dead, trying to fight Death Eaters head on with hexes that can be thrown in the halls. These men and women are ruthless and they will not hesitate to kill you, but not before they break you, tear you down until you're nothing but a snivelling lump of pain and suffering, begging for death._

 _This summer, I ask that you meet with me whenever you are free to discuss your future. I have been trying to get you to talk about it for years and every time, you brush me off and change the subject. While I can understand your reluctance, you cannot escape the fact that you are a pureblood. You can claim to be a muggleborn, and for the most part, I understand, it's who you are now, but do not turn your back on your history, especially when it could open so many doors for you. You are not a heartless bastard like your father and you are not a spineless cow like your mother was, bless her heart. If you want to see change, start with the Dimitriou name. Make it something your children would be proud of, that your grandchildren and all who follow would never hesitate to admit to being a part of. Close this dark chapter and make it a lesson, never a reality._

 _x_

She sighed, though she felt right and properly scolded, yet inspired as well. He was right, she was not as accepting as she could have been. She was technically head of a pureblood house, her year of emancipation was quickly arriving. She could have the purebloods of wizarding Britain eating out of the palm of her hand for one insignificant thing that constantly reared its ugly head in her life, which was her _blood._ Not only was she a pureblood from a well respected house, she was _fresh_ pureblood. She had often read of the inbreeding in the pureblood lines of Britain, how they were dying out because they couldn't look past their prejudices. The very thought of her even _considering_ accepting one of their many sons would spark a competitive streak in many of them, the likes of which she had probably never seen. They would want to impress her, make her see that they are worth her attention because without a father around and a marriage contract drafted, her choice in partner would be her own!

Clearing her throat, she passed the letter over to Harry, his eyes greedily skimming over the information she'd offered him, desperate to know any and everything he could about his best friend and her life. When he finished, he looked up at her. "Well, he does have a point. Seeing you in this hospital bed makes me feel guilty despite what you say, Hermione. We should have had some kind of plan and I should have listened when it was stated that it was a trap."

"This has opened my eyes to see just how many people would willingly follow me and die just because I asked. Sirius was put into a magical coma, you were cursed by Dolohov, and Neville had to look into the eyes of the madwoman who stole his childhood away from him. All because I wouldn't listen. I'm so sorry for this, Hermione. No, let me finish." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to tell him that he had no reason to apologize to her. "I know you do what you do freely because we're the siblings the other never had, but please, _let me finish._ " She nodded, sitting back, her hand reaching to grasp his.

"Hermione, you have stood by me through thick and thin, and when no one would stand with me, you were there. Because of my own foolish actions, I almost lost you, and despite what you may think, I can't live without you. You inspire me, you're so brave. I'm the Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, the fame and the scorn often come with the title, but you could have just been _Hermione._ People in this world hate you, they are jealous of you, they'd likely burn the ground you bloody walk on, but through it all, you wear a brave face and stand tall, never allowing them to get you down. You continue to soldier through everything thrown at you, and even with these letters, even with everything that could make the life you're living so much easier, you choose not to. You've fully accepted a life of scorn and misery at the hands of those who feel that they are superior to you. I have no choice in this hell, but you _chose_ to walk into the storm." He squeezed her hand tightly.

"To the end, Hermione. Me and you against the world." She didn't miss the sadness in his eyes that made her want to wonder what had been going on with the Gryffindors in her absence. They sat and talked until the dinner bell rang. She offered him a smile and watched as he went on his way, her eyes travelling to the velvet bag, suddenly heavy in her lap.


	3. Home Free

"There you go, Miss Granger!" She was sweaty and breathing heavy, but she felt more accomplished than she ever had. Well, that was a lie, but she was in a state of near bliss. When Harry left, she discussed the terms of her release with Madame Pomfrey and the mediwitch said that if she managed to walk two laps around the hospital wing, she would be released. Despite her exhaustion, she'd done it. She'd managed to make it around the hospital room not twice, but three times. That third time was a bt much and she was paying for it, but she'd done it. Her hair felt heavy on her shoulders, a frown coming to her face as she wondered when the last time she'd cut it. It had lost all of its former bounce with the added weight as well. She'd likely need to go to Hogsmeade for more clothes, maybe send her parents her measurements to get new clothes from the muggle world as well.

"I'll get your bags ready." She jumped at the sudden voice, turning to see Neville Longbottom watching her from her bed, a smile on his face. She hadn't even heard him come in, she'd been so focused on getting out of the hospital wing wo that she could finally be of use to her best friend. In that moment, she realized that she had been so caught up in wondering about Harry and if he was alright, she didn't even think about the others that had been hurt. Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. They'd all fought for their lives against bloody Death Eaters and lived to tell the tale and all she could think about was Harry.

Her mind briefly wondered to her sandy haired friend, and how he was likely doing after Bellatrix had placed the Cruciatus curse on him, but she didn't know how to bring it up to him without making him think about his parents. So instead, she smiled and nodded, rolling up her magically adjusted jeans. She'd done her best with what she could, but there was honestly so much she could do, as she was not a seamstress. There were only ten days or so left in school, so she could her throat, she slipped on her trainers, allowing Neville to help her to her feet, bidding Madame Pomfrey a goodbye. She wanted to meet Harry in the common rooms, surprise him even.

It took them almost an hour to climb the stairs to Gryffindor tower, but Neville was so patient, she could have kissed him. When they reached the portrait, the Fat Lady was missing, which usually meant she had gone to be with her friends, but Neville seemed to relax at the very sight, looking to her. She raised an eyebrow, but she figured he had something to say.

"Hermione, this past week has been a little strained after everything that happened at the Ministry. Ron and Ginny are upset about you not telling them about your family before it all and he and Ginny have been refusing to come see you in the hospital wing." She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. It had stung and she could understand that they would have likely been upset about her deception, but hering it come from Neville was entirely different. She found herself hurrying to explain something to him, to make him know that she hadn't intended for anyone to find out about it a how traumatizing her experiences with her family were.

"I never meant for it to end up like that. I didn't want anyone to treat me any differently just because of who my mother and father were. I am proud of my mum and dad. I'm proud of our our three bedroom house. I'm grateful for my hippie mum and my straight laced dad. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, you have to believe me!" He held up his hands, his eyes widening.

"I don't think you're some blood supremacist, Hermione. My nan said she met your grandfather once when the news reached her. She said that he was a right bastard, always treated your grandmother as if she was subhuman or something like that." She nodded, but replayed his response in her head, freezing when he made his way towards the portrait, the Fat Lady having had returned sometime since he's started speaking.

Grabbing his arm, she turned him to face her. "Once the news reached her?" He coughed, cheeks tinting as he watched her facial expression change. It would have been comical, watching the lanky Gryffindor go back to being so shy after literally pulling her out of the darkness of her mind, but it reminded her of the scared boy she met on the Hogwarts Express just four years prior, her first friend in the wizard world.

"Well yes," He cleared his throat, "When Harry pulled Ron out of the common room to tell him about it all, he kind of," His eyes widened as he did what could be laughably described as a visual representation of an explosion. Nodding, she let him know that she understood. The infamous Weasley temper had reared its ugly head. "He called you a liar, said that the Dimitriou family was well known for their cruelty and blood supremacy. He said that your parents were avid supporters of You Know Who and if they raised you, you were no better than Malfoy, no better than any of the Death Eaters that we fought in the Department of Mysteries." She was speechless. She'd anticipated Ron's anger, but not that. Ron was her friend, she was even beginning to think that she was possibly falling for the gangly redhead. Just hearing that alone, she'd be surprised if Professor Dumbledore didn't hear her heart shattering from his office.

Realizing that her mouth was open, she closed it quickly, clearing her throat and looking at Neville. He gave her a look in questioning, possibly asking her if she was alright. Whether he was asking or not, she nodded, watching his back as he walked towards the portrait, whispering the password and allowing them entrance.

She'd never been more grateful for an empty common room. Everyone was likely in the great Hall for dinner, but she found that she had no appetite, hurrying to her dorms and climbing into bed, pulling the curtains closed, silencing it just in time for the tears to fall. Her friends didn't trust her, they called her a liar, and worst of all, she saw it coming. Being a Dimitriou was already causing her to lose friends and she hadn't even officially claimed it yet. Grabbing her pillow and pulling it to her chest, she buried her face in it and continued to cry her eyes out.

The next morning found her in Professor Dumbledore's office, absolutely livid at the words the man had just spoken to her barely minutes before. Her eyes blazed as she curled her fists into balls, unable to speak. After closing her eyes and counting to ten, taking a few calming breaths for good measure, she finally managed to quell her growing anger enough to speak. "Headmaster," she started, unclenching them when she realized that her posture could be seen as more than a bit aggressive and not at all what she wanted to happen.

"I'm not some invalid. I was hurt, but there are people who were damaged far worse than myself in the fight," she said, remembering Neville once more, how he had been _crucio_ 'd without thought by Bellatrix. Just thinking of Bellatrix brought back emotions that she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to deal with. Why had she stopped her from doing the right thing and ridding the world of that monster? Shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts that were forming, she looked over to the old man, who looked at her like she was some sort of China Doll.

"Madame Pomfrey cleared me to leave the hospital wing, I'm taking my potions, as well as the one for pain in moderation. I need this." The last sentence came out much shakier than she would have liked, but it was true. The headmaster said that she was being sent home! She missed her parents dearly and eagerly awaited a letter from them. She longed to hug her mum and show her that everything was alright, knowing that she was likely worried sick, but Harry needed her at Hogwarts.

They would be taking him to those awful Dursleys and she wouldn't hear from him likely for a whole summer, seeing as she would be in Greece with her solicitor and her mum and dad, hopefully Harry as well. She planned to take full advantage of the library in the ancestral home, very much prepared to scour it for day on end for anything that would help Sirius' condition.

The elderly man sighed, his half moon glasses sitting on his nose as he stared up at her. "Miss Dimitriou," she gasped at the very sound of it coming from his mouth, but he ignored it, continuing on as he was. "You have been injured. There are only ten days left in term, as I'm sure you are very much aware. I don't see the harm in giving you the permission to leave early, as your condition is worrying. Madame Pomfrey agrees that it is a good idea as well." She resisted the urge to scream, knowing that if she pushed any further, he would have her petrified and carried out. Instead, she stood, swallowing the bitter pill that had shown up in her throat and nodded, bidding him good day an leaving the office as soon as was socially acceptable.

She'd been dropped off at the Headmaster's office by an older student, but as she left the Headmaster's office, an escort wa the furthest thing from her mind. How dare he?! Madame Pomfrey had given her the clear to leave, said that she was doing a good job! Why, then, was she being sent home? She stopped, feeling her hair beginning to grow heavy with the sheer amount of sweat she was producing, trying to walk back to the Gryffindor tower. Three flights was as far as she could get in her inner temper tantrum before it was time for her to sit down. In that moment, she cursed Dolohov for incapacitating her in such a way that she would have to depend on others just to get from one place to the next.

"Hullo, Hermione," She looked up from her inner monologue to meet the gaze of Luna Lovegood. A bit of envy flashed through her as she eyes the girl up and down, at full strength after they had endured so much. She looked down to see the Ravenclaw's extended hand, resisting the urge to smack it away, grabbing on and allowing the younger woman to pull her to her feet. Smiling in thanks, she made her way towards the Gryffindor common room, not so much worried about Luna knowing the location of their common rooms, as the blonde had often proven herself to know things that not many people wouldn't know if they never paid attention. Plus, after Sirius snuck in, the location had been revealed to all anyway.

"You know, you have an awful lot of Tinkerminnies around your head?" The former brunette lifted an eyebrow at that, fighting against the urge to ask her what the bloody hell she was talking about, but she decided against it, smiling wearily and listening to her ramblings until they made their way to her common room. She thanked the blonde and made her way inside, her muscles screaming in protest as she walked up the stairs, throwing herself onto her bed as soon as she entered the room, her mind wandering to later, when classes were over. She'd try to speak with her friends, get everything out in the open. As she allowed her mind to wander, she felt herself drifting off to sleep, her mind swirling with the thoughts of what she would even say to her friends.

Saturday morning found the auburn haired woman on the Hogwarts grounds, watching Harry and Ron skipping rocks on the Black Lake. Ginny was with them Since she rose, she'd wanted to talk to Ron alone, but she could never find him, nor could she make it to the common room early enough to catch him getting ready. The potions that she was taking had her waking much later than usual. She wasn't able to keep track in the Hospital wing, as she wasn't anywhere near a clock, and a _tempus_ charm was the furthest thing from her mind. Before she could stop herself, her hand raised in the air, gathering the attention of the three Gryffindors, two of them looking at her like she was some strange creature, and the third smiling widely. Making her way down, she ignored her burning lungs in favor of stepping down the steep hill, resisting the urge to pump her fist when she made it to the bottom.

"Alright there, Hermione?" She nodded, her hand clutching her locke as she bent over, squeezing her eyes tight as she caught her breath. Pulling out her wand and aiming it at her legs, she cast a pain relieving charm, her head spinning at the sudden lightheadedness that came along with said charm.

"I'm glad I caught you all. I've been missing opportunities for the past two days." Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Two days?" She nodded, straightening her posture. "I was released from the hospital wing last night, Neville walked me up. Madame Pomfrey said if I could walk two laps around the hospital wing, I could come back to the common room. I was asleep by the time classes were over, and with my potions, I wasn't able to catch you all before classes yesterday and I slept through dinner. The house elves brought me some food. I didn't want to take it at first, but that made it very clear that they wouldn't leave if I didn't." Through her whole talk, her eyes didn't leave Harry, which seemed to invoke the rage of the youngest Weasley siblings.

"Five years." She looked up at the sound of Ron's voice, her eyes widening as she watched him trembling slightly. "Five years of friendship, and you couldn't even tell us?!" She frowned. "I didn't tell anyone, the only people that knew were my mum and dad, honest." It was Ginny's turn to scoff. "Yeah right. You couldn't wait to blab it out. Gryffindor's Princess is nothing but a snake hiding in the lion's den. You _lied_ to us. You pretended to be enamoured by our home, you feigned ignorance about not knowing anything about the wizard world when you're nothing but a pureblood princess who grew up with a silver spoon in her fucking mouth!" Hermione couldn't believe her ears. How could they say such a thing. She was enthralled by the Weasleys, they were the nicest people she had met in the wizarding world, especially to be purebloods.

"It's a crime to be ashamed of the people that birthed me?!" she felt her anger growing as she glared at the two redheads. "My father was a _monster._ He preyed on the innocent and tortured the weak! What did you want me to do, come here with a collection of family photos like it's fucking Muggle show and tell?!" Her fists were shaking as she pointed a finger at the youngest of the Weasley brood. "Do you know how it feels?!" She knew she should have stopped, kept her information to herself, suffer with her own demons, but it was as if the faucet had been opened and refused to close.

"Do you know how it feels to look at your father and see nothing but _shame_ in his eyes that you were ever born? How it feels to hear your mother punished every time you don't get something right? To be constantly reminded that you're a failure for ever being born a woman? To be constantly reminded that you were given a name befitting of a strong male heir to constantly remind you that you are not good enough?! You are so _lucky_ to have the parents that you do and all you can think about is MONEY?! Your father would ever hesitate to tell you how much he loves you, to hug you, keep you happy. Your mother would give her last to see you smile, to keep you from all hurt, harm, and danger! I would trade every sickle to my name for a father like Arthur Weasley! Or a mother like Mrs. Weasley! He _murdered_ my mother at sea, pushed her off of a life raft so that he could save himself. He," she froze, eyes widening in horror as the images flashed before her eyes. Lyra lying on the ground, screaming and convulsing, the green light, her lifeless eyes. "He tortured her on our floor. In the great ancestral home that I was told to be proud of, the great ancestral home of the Dimitriou, home to Stavros and Adad, the last living descendants of Merlin." She heard Harry's gasp at that tidbit of information that she'd kept from him.

"I curse his name every day," she continued, her feet moving forwards, hazel eyes blazing as she stared at the two of them. "I curse them _all._ My ancestors, my mother and father, all of them! How _dare_ they take her away from me?!" She felt strong arms wrapping themselves around her, her arms moving wildly as she tried to fight them off. "Get off of me," she screamed, banging on their forearms and kicking at their legs.

"It's okay, Hermione. I've got you." She felt as if all fight had left her at the sound of her brother's voice, her hands clutching to her chest as she sobbed freely, not caring who witnessed it. It hurt, yet it held no feeling as well. It was as if her heart had been scraped raw and put in display for all to watch as it spurted and shuddered. She felt him spin her away from the two redheads, protecting her from their gazes, hiding her from their judgement. She was so hurt, so scared she would lose her best friends. She was so _angry_ that they would dare doubt her loyalty. When she finally was able to collect herself, she pushed Harry away, furiously wiping her eyes as she walked away, not sparing any of them a second glance.

"Aww, is the poor wittwe Gryffindor Princess upset?" She didn't need to look up to know who was following her as it was likely the only person stupid enough to do so. She'd gotten a good grasp on her tears, enough to reign in her tears and sadness, but what was left was sadness and bitterness. She wanted to make someone hurt as much as she was hurting. She wanted someone to feel her pain, and who better than Pansy Parkinson? Turning her gaze to the Slytherin, she couldn't help but notice that she was alone, something Hermione didn't witness so often.

"Why, Parkinson, it's hard not to notice you without Malfoy's cock in your mouth." She felt shame gathering in her stomach at daring to make a sick joke about what she knew was the Slytherin's biggest insecurity, but she couldn't help herself, she wanted to _hurt_ her. And not just her, anybody. It was the reason she left the Gryffindors, thankful that Harry didn't following her. When she was in the mood she was in, and knowing what she and everyone knew about Harry, she would have said something she couldn't take back, but with Parkinson, she was fair game, even though she knew it wasn't right.

As soon as the words left her mouth, the Parkinson heiress pulled out her wand, but Hermione was just as fast, and they stared each other down, wands extended, curses just on the tips of their tongues. They stared each other down, Pansy face set in a sneer and Hermione's set in a hard glare. Neither moved and neither tried to speak, both just glared at one another, eagerly waiting on the other to make the next move.

Thankfully, no moves needed to be made, as they were interrupted by none other than Professor McGonagall, the woman's hard stare causing the both of them to quickly separate, Pansy walking away from the fight with only a few points taken off of Slytherin, Hermione being left with her head of house. The woman was quick to take away twenty points from Gryffindor, as opposed to the five that had been taken from Slytherin, meaning that the woman had likely heard what Hermione had said, her cheeks reddening with shame. not bothering to say anything else, the woman motioned for her to follow, meaning that her parents were likely there to pick her up.

"Oh Hermes!" She barely made it into the room before she was pulled into her mum's arms, not expecting the tears that fell from her eyes at the feeling of being reunited with her parents. Her knees immediately felt weak, but the older woman refused to let her fall, her wild hair obscuring the view of Hermione's trembling lips and watering eyes, rocking her from side to side as she rubbed her hands in comforting circles in her daughter's back.

When she had finally stopped crying, she left the safety of her mother's dark locks, her eyes going to meet the remaining occupants of the room. In the corner of the room stood Professor McGonagall, sniffing slightly, a sign that she'd likely been crying. Next to her mum, was her dad, a smile on his face as he placed a hand on her shoulder, never having had been one for public affection. His hair, once a deep ebony, shone silver and she could only think that it made him much more handsome.

"Are you ready to go home, my love?"She nodded, not even bothering to acknowledge the Headmaster standing by the floo with a smile on his face, that same twinkle in his eye that had been there since she was eleven years old. She allowed her parents to lead her to the floo, not offering her instructors another look at the green flames enveloped them all. Once they appeared in her parents' living room, she hurriedly made her way to the couch, where her father pulled her fully into his embrace, his worry reaching her very magic, a sign that he was much more concerned than she had originally thought, causing her to hold onto him all that much tighter. "I'm safe, Dad. I'm alright." When she felt a wetness on her forehead, she squeezed hi tighter than she ever had.

 **In my mind, I can honestly see Martin Freeman's face when I think of Hermione's dad and for her mum, I see Taraji P Henson about at the same time, I see Michelle Hurd. I guess I like the beauty of Taraji, but all in all, I love her spirit, and how she is so unapologetically strong, determined, and successful. But I think appearance wise, I'll do Michelle with the spirit of Taraji, though picturing Taraji in her mum's style feels like an aesthetic that I'd flaunt for years to come.**


	4. Letters From Hermione

"Morning, Love." Hermione smiled as she made her way down the stairs to breakfast, her mum and dad moving around in what she could only describe as a dance. They never bumped into one another, always moved out of the other's way just when they needed to. Her smile widened when she imagined herself much older with a faceless man who she would be so lucky to call her husband. Her mum was humming away to Sunshine of Your Love by Cream, doing small air guitar solos as she went, a small _whoosh_ sounding, accompanied by several clicks every time she moved or spun, thanks to the beads attached to whatever jacket or shirt she was wearing, it was a bit hard to tell.

When they saw her approach, her father was the first to lead her to a seat. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that everything was alright, but she knew it would do no good. Naturally, her parents were worriers. They'd seen her at her lowest, held her when she'd cried herself to sleep many a night, all because she feared being judged for the child she once was.

"How are you feeling?" It was an innocent enough question, and if she was completely honest with herself, she was feeling great, as great as she could, but there was something that she needed to get off of her chest before it drove her crazy. Opening mouth to speak, she frowned, her mind going back to the night before, when she'd lain awake until nearly midnight. Taking a deep breath, she looked to her parents, seeing their eyes glued to her.

"Before I left, I did something terrible," she started in a small voice. The thoughts that kept her awake at night were not of her argument with Ginny and Ron, one that could have cost her their friendships, but they were of _Pansy Parkinson._ The girl had been nothing but a common bully for their entire educational career, but she felt bad for saying what she said. They looked at her with their ever patient expressions, knowing that whatever she had to say, it was important. Taking a deep breath, she decided to just say it and face their disappointment head on.

"I made a horrible remark about a girl in my year, Pansy Parkinson." Straightening her posture, she saw understanding flash over their features. She'd told her parents about the bathroom incident in their third year, about the things that she'd heard Pansy say about herself, and it didn't take a genius to know that Hermione had thrown it in her face.

"Hermione," her mother breathed out, the sound of the woman's voice nearly breaking her heart. There was no anger, no heartbreaking sadness, nothing but sheer disappointment, and that hurt more than anything she could have yelled at her.

"I know, Mum. I know."shaking her head, she wiped her face, knowing that tears would get her nowhere. "I wasn't raised that way, I don't know what came over me. I crossed a line and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me." Before, it was just insults. She knew when someone's heart was in something, and if she was completely honest, Pansy Parkinson was nothing but a hurt girl with a lot of bark and no bite. To an extent, she was harmless, which was why she surrounded herself with those who weren't so harmless, friends who would definitely fight for her when push came to shove. The insults were empty and easy to brush off, but what she said, she'd said it to hurt, and she knew the words had hit home.

"It seems like you owe this girl an apology." Nodding quickly, she stood, feeling her mother's eyes on her and going to do just as her father said, not even bothering to touch her breakfast.

…

"Looks like there's trouble in Paradise." Pansy Parkinson looked up from her pudding just to see what looked like the ass end of one of the redheaded blood traitors being thoroughly old off by Longbottom and Saint Potter, and if she was completely honest with herself, It was kind of hot. She'd never seen either of them look so furious, which could only have something to do with Granger. She hadn't seen the Gryffindor since their altercation, but she knew it likely had something to do with her new look. If Pansy herself was honest, she would have admitted that Granger could now give any pureblood a run for their money in the looks department, but all in all, she was not an honest woman, so Granger was pretty for a Mudblood at best.

A nearly ear-splitting caw pulled her from her dangerous train of thought, her azure eyes scanning the skies for the odd sound, eyes widening when whatever it was seemed to be heading straight towards _her_! She ducked, but it was unneeded, as the creature gracefully landed in front of her, his giant wings casting a shadow over one of the few young ones nearby, who all shrank back in fear.

She watched as the great beast straightened his posture, staring down at her with a look of superiority that would likely end above that of Lucius Malfoy himself. He extended his leg to her, letting out the same hoarse cry that he'd filled the hall with. On one leg, the one extended to her, there was a green envelope. He cocked his head to the side as she stared at it, moving his leg closer, a sign that she was definitely meant to take it. Carefully grasping the letter, she placed it in front of her, her hair fanning as she looked up to see him take off, making his way over to the Gryffindor table, dropping a letter right into Saint Potter's lap, not even bothering to stop as it let out another cry, leaving the Great Hall in awe.

"I heard it's from the father of her daughter," It was nearly ridiculous what the younger Slytherin could be convinced to believe, and the most recent rumour, started by the Ice Queen herself, Daphne Greengrass, was that Pansy had slept with one of the ever so prestigious and _married_ Lords of wizarding High society, managing to get herself knocked up in the process. She'd delivered her love child in private over the summer and was bravely showing her face at Hogwarts to finish her education and make a life for herself and her daughter, the only people she'd told being her lover, Draco Malfoy, and her best friend, _Daphne Greengrass._ It was so unbelievably ridiculous, she hadn't even been angry, she just had a good, long laugh.

"Someone seems to be in a good mood." She looked up at the sound of the low drawl, a smile falling from her face that she didn't even know she wore, blue eyes meeting silver.

"Draco," she whispered, her eyes doing a quick scan over him, from his nearly empty gaze to his slightly ruffled appearance. Since they were young, she and Draco had been close friends. She would do anything for Draco, all he needed was just ask, and it made her sick to her stomach. Such feelings were weak. Clearing her throat, she held the letter closer to herself, schooling her features into an impassive mask, though she knew that there was no use for it, he could read her like a book. Together, the two of them made their way to the Slytherin common room, neither saying a word as they went.

"Are you going to open it?" She'd been staring at the letter warily. They's collectively performed every spell they knew on it, and after a while, Theo and Blaise came and performed a few more. As far as they knew, there wasn't a curse waiting on the other side of the seal that closed the letter, a strange substance, smooth to the touch, unlike any seal that they'd ever seen. "What if it's dark magic? I don't know how to combat that." Draco shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dark Magic makes your insides writhe, it makes itself known." Taking a deep breath, she turned it over, partially calmed by it not being Dark Magic.

"Bloody hell." There was no mistaking the loopy handwriting of Hermione Granger. They all stared at it, confusion on their faces as they wondered just what the hell Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's prized Mudblood Princess, was doing writing to Pansy. Draco grabbed the letter from her, Theo casting a _muffalto_ as they all looked to him. Pansy managed to shake her surprise, casting a concerned look to Draco as he watched a myriad of emotions go before his eyes. When he'd finished skimming, he took on a look of deep concern, releasing a puff of air, his rigid posture relaxing. Before anyone could ask what had happened, he began to read.

" _Parkinson,_

 _This feels weird, writing you, so I most definitely won't make it a habit. I've written this letter several times, said the right things, said the wrong things, said things that don't even make any sense. It just baffled me that for once,_ I _attacked_ you. _I was the one in the wrong and I'm having to sit here and wonder what to say._

 _How are you able to do it? How are you able to be such a bitch? I don't mean it that way, I actually admire you for it, but don't get used to it, because if anyone asks, I'll deny it until my dying breath. I can't do it, I wish I could, but I can't sit here and be so spiteful and vindictive to those who do not deserve it._

 _You, Pansy Parkinson, are a terrible person. You're a blood purist, an elitist, a classist, a racist, and one of the most disgusting people that I have ever had the inconvenience of meeting. You are all around unpleasant and it is a wonder to me how you managed to make any friends. Honestly, I hate to see you coming, you're such a cow. It makes me sick to my stomach whenever your name is brought up in polite conversation because I know that what will follow will be something horrid that you've said or done, making me ashamed to call myself a woman. You are a bully and I often pray that someone will come along and beat you into a puddle when you speak to them so callously. It's evident that I vehemently dislike you, as many people do. The list of angry and justifiable things that I can and likely will say about you whenever you are brought up is rather extensive, and I can say this with no remorse._

 _With that being said, the things I said to you just yesterday were not only untrue, but inexcusable as well. You are_ not _a whore. You are_ not _some slag, and I know you aren't sleeping with Malfoy, despite the rumors. You see him as I see Harry, I know that because I am observant. I am ashamed of my behavior and I am asking for your forgiveness. You have just as much a right to your body as anyone else and I should never have said the things I said. I know that you may think that I'm writing this to you because I was made to, but I knew what I did was wrong before I did it, though I still told my parents what I had done. They were so ashamed of me and even knowing how vile of a person you are, they agreed that I was wrong and should apologize as well._

 _I don't know why I'm telling you this, but it's breakfast time. My mum and dad are downstairs making breakfast, it's a tradition that we spend the first day of summer together, as my parents are often busy. They're dentists, you see. A dentist is something of a Muggle healer who specializes in teeth, making them look nice. Since Muggles don't have magic, they make do and it's rather impressive that they can survive and thrive without magic._

 _It's odd, writing this to you. It's hard being home when I know everything is going on in the wizard world. My mum and dad know about everything that's going on, but the rest of the muggle world is absolutely oblivious. Six billion people. That's how many muggles there are. Six bloody billion, and only a small portion of them know that our world is in danger, that life as we know it is about to change and muggleborns are going to hurt in ways that you'd never think possible. I know this because it's happened here before, in the muggle world. We didn't have a dark lord, but what we had was just as bad._

 _Twelve years, twelve years of suffering, oppression, senseless murder, and_ genocide _. That is what is going to happen, and it will shake the foundations of the world as we all know it. I don't look forward to it. But I also know things like this have to happen. You will be more afraid than you have ever been and you will make decisions that may haunt you for the rest of your days. Sometimes, you will see them with your waking eyes until the day they close permanently. They may even follow you in death._

 _Morbid, isn't it?_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _London_

"Bloody hell." After Granger's letter, the friends sat there, mulling over her words. When Draco was was reading the letter, she'd been furious. Granger had the sheer audacity to write such things about her, but her anger quickly disappeared when she realized that she couldn't disprove a thing that had been said about her. Even though Granger's words were harsh, they were _true_ , and that was what hurt the most.

At Granger's apology, she couldn't help but be confused. Despite the fact that Pansy had gone out of her way to crush the spirits of the Gryffindor Mudblood, she still managed to remain the bigger person and apologize for words that she'd said. Words that Pansy wasn't even aware that the Golden Girl knew. Sure, Granger was a swot and a cow, but she was not cruel. Shed seen in Granger's eyes that she'd said something that she meant to say, something to hurt. When the words let Granger's mouth, Pansy felt her gut twist. Yet, as soon as she'd said it, she could tell that she wanted to take it back.

"Do you think she's right about this all?" They all looked up at Theo, Pansy frowning when she watched his hands shake slightly, but his eyes weren't on his hands, but on Draco. The blond's jaw tick, a common trait he had when he wanted to open his mouth and spill something, but he knew he shouldn't. He cleared his throat, placing the letter on the table.

"Muggles are subhuman. They wouldn't know anything about the complexities of war, you know that, Pans." They all looked at Draco, Blaise's eyes widening slightly. They hadn't heard the blond say much about muggles in weeks, neither to down them or uplift him. They'd begun to collectively believe that he'd given up on it altogether, but it seemed that he hadn't, judging from his hard expression. Shaking his head, Theo sighed, running a hand across his face. "Six billion," was all he said, and with that, the conversation shifted.

….

"Did you get a letter from her, too?" Harry Potter looked up from his seat before the fire in the Great Hall, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline at the sight of, not Ron or Ginny, but _Neville_. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, giving the sandy haired Gryffindor room to take a seat and stretch his legs.

"I didn't know that you and Hermione were on writing terms." Neville smiled at the mention of Hermione's name. "You do know that Hermione was my first friend at Hogwarts, right?" At that, Harry had a flashback of eleven year old Hermione on the first day she'd met him. Bossy little thing, she was. She'd asked him and Ron if they'd seen Trevor, Neville's toad that even in their current age, had a habit of getting lost somewhere in the castle. A smile crossed his face as he watched Neville lean forwards, running a tired hand through his hair.

"A Dimitriou at Hogwarts, who would've ever thought?" Turning his body towards Neville, he scanned the boy who shared so much of the pain that he himself experienced. When Hermione told him to think on the things she'd told him, it lead him to wonder what other people that he'd neglected, thinking that his priorities were all together. While he was thinking, he hovered a lot on Neville and Luna, friends that were obviously willing to do anything for him, to sacrifice their lives and sanity just for him.

Neville was an invaluable friend, always willing to protect his friends, even if it meant going bare knuckled to save them from themselves. He'd taken a _cruciatus_ curse from the very woman that had destroyed his life, yet there he stood, not even batting an eye or showing a lick of anger towards Harry for being the cause of it.

"What's so special about the Dimitriou family? Are they really the descendents of Merlin?" The silence that followed his question caused him to shift slightly, but Neville shook out of whatever trance he was in. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, getting more comfortable in his spot on the couch, "Sorry, I sometimes forget that you weren't raised in the wizard world." Taking a deep breath, Harry realized that Neville was about to go into a story.

"It's really not a grand tale to tell, but yes, the Dimitriou family are the descendants of Merlin, making Hermione a prize like no other. People from far and wide have wanted to marry her to their heirs, some even wanting to claim her for themselves when she came of age. They're a Greek family, her mother and father known as beautiful and dark people deeply rooted into pureblood supremacy. Her father was rumored to throw cruciatus curses here and there to whoever displeased him and no one dared arrest him for it."

"It seems that not only is Hermione the first friend I made in Hogwarts, but she's my first friend as well. Her grandmother and my nan were best friends growing up and we took a trip to Greece every summer. I remember he father, it wasn't hard to believe that the rumors about him were true, the man could probably stare You-Know-Who in the face and make him piss himself. Hermione looks nothing like him, she looks just like her mother, save for her hair. She gets it from her grandfather, I've seen him in a picture."

"Her mum wasn't so bad, but she was pureblood, so she wasn't likeable, but you didn't hate her, either. When I met Hermione for the first time, it was very interesting. She's pureblood, she was a giant brat, not many people liked her because she was at that point where she wasn't considered civilized enough to introduce to other children, but she was nowhere near as awful as kids like Parkinson and Malfoy were. She didn't like to share, she liked to monopolize your time when she had it, and she had a knack for getting into trouble. The main thing she was selfish about, however, was her house elf." Harry raised his eyebrow at that. He couldn't imagine Hermione at any age owning a house elf, even if it was back in her days as a pureblood heiress.

"Her name was Artemis and she was something to behold. You see, other countries actually do have laws in place to where house elves are treated fairly, given room and board, and have to be fed a minimum of three times a day and are not allowed to be overworked. Even still, I don't think as cruel of a man as he was, Hermione' father had it in him to mistreat a creature that he deemed as lesser than him. It didn't make him any better of a man, though. He didn't have a very high opinion of them, but he was insistent that his elves were better than others, if not only to prove that everything was better in his possession. So his elves were literate and well spoken, it was frowned upon if they weren't. He achieved this by having them read his mail to him, aloud, after he had done so. Every morning, he did this, every morning, it was a different elf."

"One morning, it was Artemis' turn, and she did badly." He watched a shadow cross over Neville's face, knowing that just like Hermione's tale, his recount of the man that raised Gryffindor's princess would be as dark, if not darker than the one she told him.

"Artemis was a British house elf, she wasn't raised with the luxury of literacy that the other Dimitriou elves were so privileged to have, which made her unworthy in Stavros' eyes." Clearing his throat, the Longbottom heir shifted in his seat. "It happened so fast, I didn't see it coming, but the screaming, it wasn't normal. I'd heard about what had been done to my parents, but stories of horrified people couldn't compare to what I saw him do, and the scream that I heard, it sounded off. " He licked his lips as his eyes widened, as if he were seeing it for the first time all over again.

"He was looking down, he knew it was her, he looked her in her eyes and he kept doing it. She screamed and she fought the air, scratched at her own face, but she didn't beg, she didn't cry. It was so obvious that she was terrified, but she didn't want to show weakness. That's just how strong she is, how strong she's always been. When he let off of her, she just kept writhing, convulsing on the floor while I cowered in the corner." Harry watched his hands, realizing that they were shaking, Neville's face set in a hard stare. "What kind of man does that to his own daughter?"

It was silent between the two as Harry digested the information. So far, Stavros Dimitriou was a bastard who hurt the weak in order to make himself feel better. He was a man who'd murdered a child and tortured his own daughter with an Unforgivable. He couldn't even find it in himself to be guilty at the relief that washed over him, knowing this man was dead.

"She doesn't even remember it all. I doubt she even remembers me from when we were children, we were so young, no older than five or six years old." Shaking his head, he rose to his feet. "I'm going to write her back. The train comes tomorrow and I want Gran to know about this as soon as possible. Harry nodded, patting the blond on the shoulder and watching as he left. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out his own letter from his pocket. It was unopened, he hadn't wanted to chance Ron and Ginny seeing Hermione's handwriting on the pages and either being nosey or causing a scene. It was a deep maroon, a smile coming onto his face as he remembered one of her summer letters exclaiming her excitement when she found the closest thing to Gryffindor stationery that she could after visiting a muggle zoo, seeing a notebook and envelopes that were obviously leftover Chinese New Year decorations. with Lions stamped on them.

 _Brother_

 _It's very lonely here. RIght now, it's mid-day, and I've just written a letter and I don't know whether to feel relieved or nervous._

 _Who might this letter have been to, you may ask? None other than Pansy Parkinson. I know, right? I had to write her an apology letter, can you believe it? I said some things that were very uncalled for and out of my character to her on my last days and it was eating me up inside. You should've seen how disappointed Mum and Dad were in me when I told them what happened, I was so ashamed._

 _It's rather boring today, Mum and Dad are off to work and they've left me here to my own devices, though if I'm completely honest, I'm a bit relieved. They've taken to waiting on me hand and foot, treating me like some invalid. I know they're worried and concerned, but I caught my dad looking at a book about baby proofing the living room._

 _Onto lighter and more serious news, I'm going to be meeting with my family solicitor and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me. If you have plans to see the Weasleys, I can understand, but I'm not ready to forgive Ron and Ginny right now. I can't believe they would think so lowly of me, especially Ginny. She's m closest female friend, it hurt._

 _I've also written to Neville and extended an invitation to him, asking if he wanted to visit Dimitriou manor with me. I know he can be lonely sometimes and this is my first summer that I'll be spending in the wizard world, I want to do it with my friends, the right way. Do you think Lady Longbottom will allow him Neville along and having him crucio'd, II was sure to write a lengthy apology note to him and I expect you to do so as well, Harry James Potter._

 _You're so lucky to be spending all the way until term end at Hogwarts, the grounds are always so beautiful in the last few days, almost as if Hogwarts is seeing us off until we meet again. I usually grab a good book, go to my favorite nook in the school library, and watch the scenery while I read my last book of the year. It's no Quidditch pitch, but it gets the job done for me._

 _Hope to hear from you soon,_

 _Hermione._

A smile crosses his face as he reads the letter once more, shaking his head as he rises from the couch, making his way towards the stairs to fetch his invisibility cloak. It seemed that he had somewhere to be.

 **Hello babes! I know, I should've had this chapter up** _ **ages**_ **ago, but I am in fact an unreliable dick. This story, I know, is very unconventional, and things aren't as they likely should be, but the truth is (And I'm not even sure if you all were aware, and if not, this may be a shock), I'm not JK Rowling. Sure I'm taking my liberties with her character, and the Dimitriou family belongs to me, as well as any other unrecognizable characters, but this is not the Harry Potter you know and grew up with, the characters have gone through different things in life, so naturally, they will be entirely different people than Jk created them to be. If I wanted the same old Harry Potter characters that JK Rowling created, I would read Harry Potter. If you don't like the story, that's fine. If you are curious about some of the liberties that I'm taking with the characters, feel free to leave a review or inbox me your questions and concerns. I obviously don't have a bta, so there's likely to be errors as well.**


	5. Summer

"Do you like this one?" She should have known it would only be a matter of days before her mother took an off day and dragged her to one of the many shops in London to look at clothes that they would be wearing to Greece, her mother being more than excited to be venturing into the wizard world again after so long, the only exception being when she and her parents all got their glamours done and ventured to Diagon Alley in her second year, to buy school books. They'd done their best as amazed muggles, though the entranced state that they had gone in was very much real, as they were seeing the magic world for the first time in over a decade. Her mother had behaved oddly while they were there, so they hadn't been back since.

The dress her mother held in her hands was undoubtedly lovely. It was a lavender boho style dress that split well up the legs, though it wasn't as noticeable as one would think **(I actually have visual representation of the outfit on Polyvore, but I have no idea how to link it.).** With it, was a set of rings that would adorn her fingers, much like the ones that her mother currently wear. They were gold, which complimented her beautiful dark skin perfectly. **(I've decided that I will go with Taraji for Hermione's mother. She's just so beautiful and I've really been having a hard time imagining Michelle for her mother now, even though I was convinced that Martin Freeman and Michelle Hurd would make a beautiful couple.)** _ **.**_ Her rings were silver, and she liked the way that they looked against her pale skin. She gave a thumbs up, watching as her mother went to go and find odd ends to match.

"What about this?" She held up a pair of black flared pants and a burnt orange off-shoulder belted blouse, watching as her mother's eyes lit up at the thought of how many different accessory possibilities she could have on with the clothes of choice. It was an obvious yes, the two of them hurrying off to another part of the store to find more things.

Once they were weighed down with bags, the two of them climbed into the family car, Hermione buckling her seatbelt as she scanned the road. She was a bit antsy, but it was more because of the letter that she'd left unopened at home. It was from Parkinson, she could tell by the overly extravagant handwriting that the girl used to take up space when writing essays in Hogwarts. She didn't know why, but she was desperate for Parkinson to forgive her. Sure, it didn't keep her up at night, but it was a lingering thought whenever she was doing something.

"You can just leave the bags here, love. I'll sort through them and take them upstairs. It was no secret that her daughter was anxious. She could tell from the way she constantly wring her hands, he nervous tapping as they turned onto their street, and the constant glances thrown at the stairs. She watched her daughter nod and make her way up the stairs, much more pep in her step than when she'd come.

When she got in her room, she closed the door tightly, her eyes immediately going to the letter that sat on her desk. The material was obviously high quality, that much she could tell when she touched it. The paper was nice and thick, though she could tell that it was very flexible. Making her way to the plush chair at her desk, she grasped the letter, breaking the seal on it. Before she went shopping, she'd performed a plethora of examination spells on the letter, assuring the security of the contents. It didn't occur until after that the ministry would catch wind of her use of underaged magic, but i had already been done.

 _Granger_

 _You're right, this is weird. Right now, I'm sitting in the bay window of the Slytherin common room. We don't have a view of the grounds, but I can't say that our view of the depths of the Great Lake aren't likely more magnificent. It basks our common room in an ethereal glow. Maybe you can ask Potter and Weasley if they remember it from when they were sticking their nose in what wasn't their business._

 _I guess you can consider us even. But don't think it makes us friends, I'd never be caught dead in the company of a mudblood like yourself._

 _You're right about Draco. He and I aren't fucking. My mum was too much of a stuck up bitch to even try and seduce my father to create another child, so Draco is the sibling I never had. We've grown up together, know all of each other's deepest, darkest secrets, and that's good enough for me._

 _Nice try on the war thing. If the muggles are as plentiful as you say they are and have gone to war, if they're even intelligent enough to do so, they'd have likely wiped themselves out. Everyone knows how you muggles live, so don't try to think I'm stupid._

 _Now if you don't mind, I have a summer ball to plan._

 _X_

She didn't know why, but Parkinson's letter made her laugh. It was very strange, having a handwritten letter from Pansy Parkinson in her hands, but here it was, sitting in her lap. She could read through bitchspeak better than many thought she could. Parkinson was grateful to have received an apology and she was shocked that Hermione felt terrible after all the horrid things Pansy had done to make her life at Hogwarts a living hell. Placing the letter to the side, she brushed off her shirt and walked to her window at the sound of a car pulling up in their driveway. When she got a glimpse of who was inside, she nearly leaped out the mahogany frame.

"HARRY!" She didn't know how she'd gotten her mother to convince Petunia Dursley to allow her nephew to spend a good portion of the summer at their home, but fifteen minutes on the phone before their shopping trip and she'd said with a smile that Harry would most definitely be on his way.

"Hey," her brother breathed out as she tackled him into a hug, his arms quickly lifting to envelop her, making her heart soar. Harry had always been a bit odd when it came to physical affection, probably due to she sheer amount he had be deprived of growing up. Instead of cursing the Dursleys in her mind, she held onto him tighter until a throat clearing sound broke them apart. Turning, she saw her mum and dad standing there, both smiling happily. Grabbing him by his hand, she pulled him over to them.

"Mum, Dad, this is my brother, Harry Potter." Sure,they'd met him before, very briefly, when they were twelve, but he hadn't really been properly introduced. Her dad stuck out a hand, shaking Harry's firmly before her mother pulled him into a large hug, one he returned awkwardly as she rocked him from side to side.

"Come, Harry. Let me how you where you'll be sleeping." She pulled him behind her, leading up to the second floor landing. Mum, Dad, and I got everything especially ready for you to come." Her cocked his head as they walked on. Leading him down the main corridor, she stopped at two halls facing one another. "This hallway leads to my room and this one leads to yours," she said, pointing to the left and right hallways respectively.

Making their way down the hallway that led to Harry's room, she pointed out the three rooms, one on each side and another in the middle. "This is where your temporary study will be," she said, opening the door on the right to reveal a room with deep forest green walls and a plush, beige carpet. There were bookshelves filled to the brim with books, a large globe in the middle of the room, the window showing the expanse of the neighborhood, giving him a perfect view of the park not far away, filled with lovely shade trees. In front of the mirror was a large mahogany desk, fully equipped for both wizard and muggle post sending.

Making her way to the left door, she opened it, revealing a rather nice bathroom. There was both a tub and a shower, her father having had liked the idea of the both being separate. It was fully stocked with a variety of mens' bath products, as well as towels, sponges, washcloths, and loofahs. The walls were painted a deep blue, which she thought was very befitting of a bathroom, if he did say so herself. She had wanted to stick with more blue based colors, loving the way the color seemed to calm people.

When they moved to the center door, she turned to him. "Let me know if you don't like it. It may seem a bit creepy, but I've been preparing for the day your family finally allowed you to spend the summer here for years. It's very embarrassing, but I wanted you to be comfortable if you ever came." He nodded, watching her nervous stance as she opened the door slightly before shutting it firmly. "If you don't like it, don't hesitate to say anything. I'm sure I might not have gotten everything exactly to your li-" She let out a squeak as she felt herself being moved aside, Harry opening to door, a gasp escaping him as he dropped his chest.

She stepped into the room, sighing in relief when he didn't scream about how much he hated it. She'd painted the walls a blue based red, having paid someone to draw a moving mural of a snitch on the walls. It had been hard to find a wizard living in the muggle world, but she had found him, a young graduate from the wizarding school called Ilvermorny, coming to London on vacation. He was also a muggleborn like her and they maintained contact all the way up until his suicide at the end of her fourth year. His name was Michael Lycett.

There was a narrow bookcase in the corner of the room, filled with every quidditch book she had been able to find at wizard markets in France, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley. His bedroom window opened up to see the spacious backyard, just above her parents' small duck pond. Her room showed the opposite end of the yard, giving her a lovely view of her favorite reading spot, which was the oak tree.

His bed was rather large, it was a large California King with a custom made headboard, a cushioned one she'd seen in a catalogue. There were black comforters and red pillows to match. His carpet was the same color as that of his office. There was even a large converted ferret cage for Hedwig to play around in. She looked to Harry to see him still staring around the room.

"Do you like it?" He jumped, turning to look at her. "No," he said, turning in a circle and falling at the foot of the bed. "I love it," he said, his voice muffled by the covers flying up around him. The noise that she made was indescribable. It was somewhere between a squeal and a laugh. "Well that's good, Harry. I'll give you time to freshen up and then we can go explore the neighborhood!" With that, she closed the door behind her and ran to her own bedroom, closing the door behind herself.

Once she had fully dressed for the day, her outfit consisting of a simple black cropped top and a pair of high waisted black jeans. She paired it with her Doc Martins, applying a tinted gloss to her lips as she spun in the mirror. She could show him all of her favorite places to go, all while getting Crookshanks the exercise he needed. Though she hated to say anything about it, she feared for his health. He was very fluffy, but he was also very fat, and she feared for his longevity of life.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts, turning to see Harry standing in her doorway, an odd look on his face. Smiling widely, she walked over to him and pulled him into a hug, breathing in his scent. Harry always had a peculiar undertone to his scent, one she could never quite place. Pulling back, she gave him a look over, scanning for any signs that he had been hurt in any way by those Dursleys. She didn't like that Harry was living with them, that Dumbledore was allowing his relatives to abuse him and mistreat him so. She saw it, he didn't have to tell her. He was always too thin, he shied away from physical affection, always carrying a confused expression when someone offered him a concerned look.

Clearing her throat, she lowered her hands from his sides, she stepped out of his space, pulling her hands behind her back. "Are you ready to go?" He nodded, though he didn't seem very interested in the idea. "Come on, if we leave now, we can be back before dinner's ready." He nodded, hurriedly following her as she went.

"That cat is a menace." She huffed, sending a glare Harry's way as she crooned at Crookshanks, waving an apple slice in his face to get him to come from under the park bench. "Son of a bitch," she hissed as he made a similar noise, viciously swiping at her hand as the sounds of children shrieking reached her ears. Sticking her finger into her mouth and suckling on it, she glared at the agitated feline "Crookshanks, get your furry arse away from under that bench this instant," she whispered sharply, only receiving a threatening sound from him. She didn't need a translator to tell her that he'd likely just told her to piss off. "You're not allowed in this park anymore, Crookshanks! If Miss Bonita caught you out here, you'd be in a world of trouble." Her mind flashed back to the a memory of the summer after her second year in Hogwarts, when a child had disrupted the ginger cat's nap to pull an entire handful of fur from his rear. It was safe to say that he was no longer welcomed there with open arms. In fact, not a lot of cats were, save for her neighbor, Bonita Griffith.

As if she felt her name being thought of, a dainty sniff alerted them to the presence of another person in their area. Taking a deep breath, she turned to stare into the face of the elderly woman who often strutted through the park as if she owned the place. It never ceased to fail she was dressed as if she had somewhere important to be, wearing a pair of green sweatpants and a white tee shirt, her trousers pulled up her stomach. Her once brown hair had turned white with age and sat in tight curls above her head. A testament to her old age, she wore large glasses that made her eyes look several times larger than they really were. In her arms was a large, snow colored cat who looked about three days older than dirt.

"Hermione Granger," she said, looking the young woman up and down. "Mrs. Griffith," Hermione offered back frostily. Harry stood in the background, watching the two women stare each other down, venom in their gazes. "I see you have no care for the requests of others," the woman drawled disdainfully. "This is a public park, you can't ban Crookshanks from here just because you don't want him here." The old woman scoffed, placing a hand on her hip.

"That vermin is a threat to the safety of others who choose to spend their time enjoying the day." Hermione clenched her fists as she glared at the woman. "How DARE you?! Crookshanks is leagues better than that rat with hair you're carrying around, I will not stand for you insulting him like this!" Sticking her nose in the air, the elderly woman looked at Crookshanks out of the corner of her eye. "My grandson works for the animal control center, he'll see to it that that flea bitten bag of mange is euthanized." It took every bit of self control she had not to smack the old woman into oblivion, though it didn't stop her from speaking.

""You lonely old hag, my Crookshanks has never had a flea a day in his LIFE! He's half Kneazle, you know that!" Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers at Hermione's mention of the wizarding animal, but the woman simply sniffed. "More of a reason to and that creature back into the wild where it needs to stay. This is a park for civilized creatures, not filthy half-breeds that don't know how to behave in the presence of children." Hermione was seething by the time she felt Crookshanks brush against her legs, her hands balled into fists as they lay on her side, her pale face turning a rather vibrant shade of red as her frame shook. Grabbing her arm, Harry led her away before she could scream at the top of her lungs and her voice took on that screeching quality it was often known to.

"How dare she," Hermione fumed, stomping down the streets of her neighborhood, Harry trying his best to placate her. "Crookshanks isn't a bad cat, they should just bloody well leave him alone!" Her lip quivered as she kneeled in front of her cat, pulling him into her chest. "You're a good boy, Crooks. She'll get hers, you wait." The orange feline purred in understanding, resulting in Hermione letting out a sigh, turning to look at Harry. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, an apologetic smile on her face.

"It's alright, Hermione. I'd feel the same way if someone insulted Hedwig." She smiled, grabbing onto his arm as Crookshanks made himself comfortable on her shoulder. "I want you to meet some friends of mines." He threw her an odd look, but she kept her eyes forwards, leading him several blocks away from the park.

"Does my nose deceive me or is that a Potter I smell?" Harry jumped at the voice that called him by name, Hermione's laugh reaching his ears as they approached a large Victorian home. The entire block was filled with abandoned houses and he didn't understand why Hermione had been leading them there. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Hermione led him towards the porch, pulling him behind her after Crookshanks climbed down from her shoulder. "Hermione, is this safe? I'm getting a bad vibe." She shushed him, stopping at the top step, her eyes scanning the dark, covered patio. A squeaking sound caught their attention, their heads snapping to the side to see a woman sitting in a rocking chair.

She was beautiful, there was no other word for it. Though she looked to be no older than thirty, her eyes spoke of years well beyond her looks. If he weren't completely sure, he would have mistaken the woman for some sort of magical creature, a Veela even, but there was no desperate need to get closer to her. If anything, he wanted to sit at her feet and tell her his whole life story and all of his problems.

"Auntie," Hermione started, taking a slow step towards the woman, quickly moving when a jet of red light hit the ground near her feet. Harry reached for his wand, but a quickly extended hand warned him that he'd best not. "It's me, Hermione," she said again, watching as the woman relaxed her posture.

"What are waiting for, Girlie? Get you arse up here and give your old Auntie a hug." Finally relaxing, hermione made her way over to the chair, bending over and embracing the woman fully. When they separated, the woman's eyes moved to Harry and he got his first glimpse of the milky spots in the center of her vision.

"Harry James Potter, my how you have grown." He cocked his head, giving her an odd look. "What, she started. Have you never seen a blind person before?" He shook out of his trance, taking on a confused expression. "How did you-" "I remember the day your mother came here. Pretty as a Georgia peach, she was. She was scared out of her damn mind. I touched her hand and she trembled like a leaf." She stared at him, nodding firmly. "Girlie did a good job of bringing you here, you are where you need to be, yes you are." Looking away from him she turned towards Hermione, grasping her by either side of her face and pulling her towards her, close enough that their noses were almost touching.

"You take care of him, Adad Dimitriou. You watch over him and you protect him. You two are all each other's got right now and if you deviate from one another, I will come and beat the living bloody hell out of you both, do you understand me?" Despite the evident threat to their persons, Hermione smiled, kissing the woman on her cheek. "Your mother came about ten minutes ago. Your father came with her, but he left as soon as she was settled in." Nodding, Hermione rose to her feet, turning and making her way towards the door, Harry following behind quickly.

The first thing they heard when they entered the home was the sound of screeching, then a door being thrown open. Before he could think of what to do, a body crashed into him, he and the mysterious person falling to the floor in an entanglement of flailing limbs, him being unfortunate enough to be at the bottom. When his vision managed to clear, he was staring into a pair of enlarged eyes that he knew all too well.

"Professor Trelawney?"

 **Yeah, yeah, I'm still unreliable. I've embraced it, I shouldn't be trusted with deadlines. I wanted to keep this chapter going, but I think it's best to stop here, I don't want to make the chapters unbearably long. In the next chapter, we're going to see what the hell Sybil Trelawney is doing in the muggle world, in such close proximity to Hermione's mother, but all will be revealed, as well as a new rivalry, which is between Josephine and Sybil, though a few things will be revealed about Josephine as the story goes on, pertaining to a certain Slytherin. I you can guess which one, you can be a character, maybe even be his love interest, if you're interested in that.**

 **I know I said in an earlier part that I have visual representation for her outfits and such, but those have since been purged from the internet with the deletion of Polyvore, which was bought by a site which promptly erased them and they're left as nothing but a fond memory.**

 **Also, reading from a reviewer, I may have accidentally implied that Lyra was a house elf. To set the record straight, she was not a house elf, but a little girl that Hermione befriended in her childhood, from the village her family's home overlooked. I don't want to put too much into explaining, because Lyra will be brought up again and her friendship with Lyra will be discussed via memories Hermione has and stories she will tell someone. I don't know how this will end, that much is certain. I find out as you find out.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Stay weird.**

 **Momo**


	6. Lazarus

She seemed to move rather slowly, looking down at him, looking down at him, though not completely all there. "Mr Potter, I didn't know you possessed the sight? It's such a joy to see young people embracing their gifts as they should," she slurred, giving him what many people would call a loving pat on the cheek, but the crack that sounded with her exposed palm making contact with his face told of a different story. He managed to get up and get her off of him just as a figure emerged from the room that she'd just fled from.

He saw Hermione move to shield the cooky Seer from one what seemed much more dangerous, one Josephine Granger. Her normal upbeat heel to toe step seemed to have been replaced with a swaying step, but her expression was that of a woman with murder on their minds, which didn't spell fortune for the woman cowering behind him. The two Granger women collided in what Harry could only describe as a fight for dominance, Josephine's gaze locked on Trelawney.

Hermione grabbed her mother by the waist, the two of them the physical embodiment of night and day, earth and snow, light and darkness. The Granger matriarch pulled at her daughter's hair, resulting in Hermione's eyes screwing tight, still pushing forwards, leading the woman towards the room she'd just come out of. "Get her out of here, Harry," she yelled when her grip started slipping.

"Come on, Professor," he said lowly, urging her towards the door, but she scoffed. "It's not my fault that what I said was true," she said scornfully her words causing her assumed rival knock her daughter to the ground, a shout escaping her when the redhead grabbed onto her ankle, her body falling to the ground and Hermione then decided to sit on her back, her knees pinning the woman's arms, leaving her to do nothing but scream obscenities at the Hogwarts professor, some which would likely make a drunkard on a Tuesday morning turn as red as a tomato. With that, Herry led his Divination professor out of the sitting area, her fit having had garnered the attention of other members of the house, all at varying ages and in different states o both dress and undress.

Once Hermione was able to haul her mother away to the depths of the home, which seemed much larger on the inside, Harry got a good look around. It was very similar to the inside of Grimmauld place, though there was no collection of House ELf skills, an all around sense of discomfort and dread, nor was there over a decade's worth of dirt, grime, and untouched dark magic. If anything, he felt like he was in some sort of psychedelic trance. The doorways were covered in flowers and beads, the scent unmistakeable of marijuana, There were piles and piles of pillows in the home, the walls lines with hookahs, piled with pipes and bongs, some having sex out in the open. He couldn't help but wonder what Hermione would be doing in a place like this. The girl he knew and grew up with turned her nose up to certain behavior, or at least he thought she would.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He turned sharply to see her standing by the stairs, her eyes scanning the room of people. Where he expected to find disgust or scorn similar to that Trelawney had shown her mother, he saw sadness, pity, and something wise she couldn't quite place. "Not all things in this world are bathed in light," she started, his eyes travelling to her face, which looked as if she'd gotten into a fight. "Sometimes, beauty is dark, it's raw, and it makes you cry at the injustice of it." It was in that moment, that their dynamic seemed to change, and he was deeper entranced by the girl he called his sister. Her hair was a mess, scratches marred her pale skin, and there was dried blood in the corner of her swollen lip, but she was the most beautiful creature in the world, and he would kill anyone who opposed the sentiment. "Come on," she said, making her way up the stairs, stopping at the top ad taking a seat, it being evident that he was meant to sit beside her.

"This was an opium den in the sixties." She looked around, a frown on her face. "When my mother became of age, this is where she lived. The people here, they're all Seers. Wizardkind often likes to present it as this marvelous thing, this amazing gift that you're lucky to have because so very few people possess the Second Sight, but they don't tell you about this. They don't talk about the nightmares, the horrid visions, premonitions of death that are likely to sit with you until your own."

"They're so desperate that they often turn to drugs, sex, and drinking, just to stay so doped up or zonked that they don't even know who they are anymore. I can't count the amount of times in my life where I've walked into a room and seen someone hanging from the ceiling, lying on the floor and convulsing. I've seen blood paint the walls, everything, all because of a wayward vision. They wander the halls mindlessly, and Auntie takes care of them, tries to make it easier. When my mum came, she was seventeen years old venturing in the muggle world for the first time, with a head full of hopes and dreams, hoping to make a life for herself as a singer. She led a fast life, she did more drugs than should be humanly possible, and she overdosed five times."

"Mum and Professor Trelawney hate each other, if it isn't already obvious, and it's all because of me." He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop it. "I'm not blaming myself, I'm just stating facts. If I wasn't in the picture, they would still be cordial, but it was through me that the ball started rolling. Actually, through Dad. I was the final nail in the coffin around the time I turned eight. They'd vowed to stand with each other until the end, to face this curse together. She didn't used to be like this, Professor Trelawney. She was just my Aunt Sybil. She and my mother vowed to never fall in love, to never bring a child into this world and chance cursing them with this way of living. Then mum met my dad." He watched that smile, it was a special smile, one only reserved for when she mentioned her parents.

"He convinced Mum to get clean. When Mum got clean, she began going to school, and she tried to get Professor Trelawney clean. That didn't work out, and they had a rather explosive fight. After the fight, things were said that obviously shouldn't have been, even though Mum won't tell me what they were, I know that they hurt in ways no one should. After that, Mum stayed away for a few years, and in that time, my parents married and adopted me. Though my mother technically kept part of the promise they made, She's never birthed a child into this world, but that was still an insult, still bad."

"Eventually, they reconciled their differences and everything began to go well. We met and we hit it off instantly, but as you can probably tell, that peace didn't last very long. I really liked her, I looked up to her, but then my mum learned that she'd done nothing to stop doing drugs and she had moved on to a plethora of other drugs. This was after she had found her job at Hogwarts, so she had a means to afford the habit. Even now, she's a functioning addict, it's why McGonagall wanted to protect her. She's made many enemies in life, trading off fake prophecies and false readings to dangerous people in exchange for drugs or loans. To put if frankly, she is responsible for over two thousand deaths, but since Divination isn't actually seen as a method of murder, she hasn't been convicted, no matter what anyone says. The weak and afraid are dangerous, but you know that," she said, both their minds immediately going to Peter Pettigrew, his fear leading to one of the most prolific deaths in the wizard world.

"When Mum found out about the false prophecies, she was absolutely livid. The Sybil she knew would have never done something like that, but the Sybil she knew was long gone, consumed by drugs, on the run from criminals. SHe said that she should quit at Hogwarts, that she was putting the students in danger with the things she'd done and begged for her to quit and come to the muggle world, where she could be protected."

"Trelawney told Mum that she was jealous, that just because her dreams died, that she couldn't destroy hers, that she would never understand how fulfilling it was, and that maybe she'd ask Dumbledore if Mum could replace Filch. Then, she would say things about me, imply to me that Mum hated me because I could do magic. That was the final straw and they got in a big fight. Mum banged her up really bad and the aurors were called. Because she's a squib, Mum was put in a holding cell at the Ministry for a weekend and she'd never forgiven her since."

They sat in silence for a while, Harry mulling over everything he'd just been told. "That's," he started, looking for something to say that wouldn't sound insensitive.

"A clusterfuck of shite no one should have to endure?" He jumped at the sound of Josephine Granger's voice, though Hermione didn't seem surprised. Nodding, he watched as she gave her daughter an apologetic look, the responding smile being enough to lift her spirits. "Come on, kids. We'd better be making our way home before dinner. You know how your father is about being late." Hermione scoffed, rising to her feet and pulling her mother into a tight embrace, surprisingly pulling the bespectacled boy in as well before the three of them headed on their way.

"Look who decided to come home." Despite the tone of his voice, it was clear that Mr. Granger wasn't angry. They all took their seats at the table, perfectly set for four, Hermione sitting in between her parents, across from him, offering him a small smile before they dug into their dinner, which was all his favorites, Shepherd's pie, steak and kidney pie, and once they were all stuffed, Mr. Granger's famous treacle tart, which made Hogwarts elves' tart taste mediocre at best. They all talked about their adventures in school, careful to leave out the Department of Mysteries, Mrs. Granger tossing Harry a beaming smile filled with pride that nearly made his chest ache as Hermione bragged about his teaching ability. Then they moved on to their plans for the next week when they all packed up to head over to Greece.

"Oh, Hermione. I forgot to mention," Mr. Granger said, rising to his feet and making his way to the kitchen window, holding up a letter. "Your friend Neville sent this over. You wouldn't believe the state of the owl that came, he looked like he was two days older than dirt but insisted on flying out, even when I tried to lock him in." The two looked at each other, Hermione grabbing the letter and reaching to open it, Josephine placing a hand over her own. "How about you and Harry go and read that one together. Upstairs yeah?" She looked at her with a confused expression, but nodded, motioning for Harry to come with them.

"Oh Neville," Hermione sighed, feeling her bottom lip quiver, Harry resting his hands in his head as he held onto Hermione. Neville Longbottom was a boy who held the world on his shoulders, and his weight had grown all the more heavy with the poisoning of Augusta Longbottom. The old woman was a fighter and she died with curses on her lips, cursing all who dared take her away from her grandson.

"He needs us, Hermione." Hermione looked up and nodded, knowing that between the three of them, there was enough loss to send even the strongest man to his grave. Rising to her feet, she fumbled for her wand, locating it on the bedside table before Harry quickly grabbed her arm. "We have to keep a calm head about this, Hermione. Neville's already hurting, we can't go like this." She nodded, closing her eyes, picking up the letter and skimming over it.

 _Hermione_

 _I had this long, thought out letter that made everything make sense, heartfelt memories, me telling you that no matter what you looked like, you'd still be the first friend I ever had, but it's different now. I need you to get your ginger arse to St. Mungo's right this fucking second. My nan is dead, Hermione. She's dead and I have absolutely no FUCKING idea what to do. I know I shouldn't swear, this isn't acceptable, but I don't know what to do. She's gone and the last thing she said was that you needed to get you little ginger arse here right this fucking instant, so that's what I'm saying, what she said. Mum and Dad are pretty much gone, and now Nan? Who do I have? I know we have the manor, but I can't do it. I can't live there. Please hurry._

"What are we going to do?" She looked over at him. "We're going to get our ginger and inky haired arses to St. Mungo's right this fucking instant," she said, making her way to her wardrobe, pulling on a hoodie to cover up her midriff, searching through her drawers and pulling out a pair of long gloves, Harry collecting their wands as they hurried out the door.

"Take all the time you need, I love you! We'll come pick you up at the muggle entrance!" Hermione quickly hugged her parents, her mum catching Harry off guard when she pulled him into a large hug, hurriedly whispering for him to be safe as the Knight bus pulled in front of their house, the two of them jumping on and screaming for them to get to St. Mungo's and step on it, which in hindsight, wasn't a good idea as the bus took off at speeds that seemed unimaginable, the two of them barely managing to get a full grip on the poles as their bodies were nearly thrown back.

When they made it to the wizarding hospital, Harry looked more than a little sick, almost unable to keep up with Hermione, who took off faster than it seemed her little legs could take her, making him realize that she didn't have a single shoe on her foot. They entered the hospital, Hermione nearly tripping over the receptionist's desk, screaming Neville's name at the visibly shaken woman's face, which only seemed to become more nervous when he managed to catch up, blurting out the floor and room number, not even bothering to take the lifts, as she threw open the door to the stairs, scrambling up flight after flight with no sign of tiredness.

"Neville?!" She looked around as a visibly exhausted Harry burst out of the door, cursing his past self for not taking the lifts instead. "Neville!" When she spotted him, talking to a huddle of redheads, she broke into a run, the blond Gryffindor meeting her half way and scooping her off of her feet, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, which she returned with gusto. A ragged sob tore from his throat, one of someone who had lost so much in such little time, her hand rubbing soothing circles in his back soothing him as she shushed him, giving a hug that only Hermione Granger could give, one that made the world seem like it wasn't so bad of a place after all.

Once Hermione released him, she wiped her eyes, dusting him off, as if she was knocking off several layers of doom and gloom, before she was being pushed out of the way and everyone watched in surprise as Harry Potter, the most physically awkward person to ever live, pulled Neville into his arms. It was an embrace that it seemed only Harry Potter could give, one that said that no matter what the world threw at you, he would always be there to help you fight it off, from here to East Hell. It made the blond smile, and that was all he needed, something to smile for. He didn't need condolences, he didn't neep pity. He needed his friends, he needed to know that when he had nightmares, they would wake him up in the middle of the night and listen to him whimper and moan before he cried himself to sleep. He needed _them_.

Once the two were separated, Hermione was back to Neville's side, grabbing onto his hand and holding it tightly as the three of them faced the aforementioned redheaded clan, all holding their gaze. Hermione and Harry's eyes immediately went to Ron, who stood awkwardly in front of his parents, confusion written on his face, likely there when Hermione and Harry entered the hospital together. Ginny sat not too far off, sitting in a chair and glaring at Hermione, the twins seeming torn between whatever grudge Ginny and Ron seemed to be holding, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watched the interaction with fondness that all parents seemed to possess, watching children that they helped raise get along with others and comfor their friends in their times of need. Hermione wanted to go to them, but she also knew that her problems could wait, that there was always tomorrow, though it wasn't always guaranteed.

"I don't know what she meant, but she said that she was waiting on you. She said we all needed to be together, that she had something to say, but she," he stopped, choking on his words, dread filling Hermione's stomach as she realized what was being asked of her. Harry reached his hand over to her free one, holding it firmly, giving her a silent vote of confidence. "Let's go then," he said,motioning for everyone to follow.

"What are we waiting for?" Augusta Longbottom was beautiful, and despite Ginny's impatience, Hermione would revel in it as she stood at the foot of the hospital bed. There she lay, it could have been as if she was sleeping, as if Augusta Longbottom, a hard bitch who would stand in the face of Voldemort himself and try to strike him down if it meant keeping her grandson safe. Her usual scowl was gone, her dark brown tresses speckled with grey and hanging to her shoulders. A sigh escaped her as she sniffled, wiping her cheek.

"I can't do this, what if it goes wrong?" The dark haired wizard had watched her sit in silence and weigh her options for close to a half hour and she seemed no closer to actually making a move to do anything. "You're going to do just fine, Hermione. Lyra wasn't prepared, Augusta met her end fighting. It's different this time. There are no broken bones and no curses. Just an old battleaxe who is hell with a wand." Neville scoffed, offering Hermione an encouraging look, to do whatever his grandmother expected him to do. "Okay," she said, nodding in confidence as she made her way to Augusta's bedside.

Pulling her gloves fro her hands, she revealed the pale digits, which disappeared into her hoodie, a gasp escaping the Weasley matriarch and patriarch, as well as the twin siblings, though Hermione paid them no mind, clearing her throat as she reached out to touch the woman's hand, pulling back just before she made contact. Deciding that he'd had enough, Harry grabbed her by her wrist, placing her palm on the elderly woman's hand, the room letting out a collective scream as her eyes popped open and she screamed at the top of her lungs.


	7. Take Care Of Him

**Alright, so this is something I have a problem with. If you're going to leave a review criticizing my work, and I have no problem with criticism, it's very appreciated, please be** _ **concise**_ **in what you have a problem with and don't give me vague and patronizing criticism that could apply to literally anything. If I lost you, I want to know where, so I know where to go back and review. If you can't tell me that, nothing will change. I cannot read your mind and I honestly don't want to. So if your criticism isn't constructive and beneficial to your reading experience or my writing experience, keep it to yourself.**

"You old COW, that was not funny! You could've given Neville a bloody heart attack!" Hermione was shaking, and despite her screeching at the old woman who was cackling like a madwoman, she refused to let her hand go. She expected there to be screaming, scratching, and fighting, but there was none of that.

"Don't you go giving yourself too much credit, Granger. I made peace with Death. Don't think for a second that if I hadn't, I wouldn't have fought the bloody bitch tooth and nail to get back where I need to be." Nodding, Hermione looked between the two of their hands, Augusta's greying and speckled with moles and liver spots, as well as an expanse of freckles across what was likely once beautifully porcelain skin. A sob from Neville caught her attention, the older woman's hand reaching out to grasp his shoulders, offering him a smile, one which he seemed to have inherited.

"Nan," he started, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched her hand tighter. She placed a hand on his cheek, her eyes travelling around the astonished faces in the room until she made eye contact with Hermione, sighing lightly, her eyes flashing to Harry and then to Ron.

"You take good care of my grandson. He's a good boy, but I need you all to help him become a damn good man. Better than my son ever was." Those words seemed to send Neville into a fresh wave of tears. Hermione herself knew that it was a common insecurity he had, one she was surprised Harry didn't have, constantly having James Potter, the man who stood up to Voldemort, thrown in his face. To hear such words from his grandmother meant a lot to him, she knew. "These next few months will be hard for him, but I trust you all to take care of Neville. If you don't, I'll enter your dreams and drive you to the afterlife so I can beat the bloody devil out of each and every one of you. And you, Girl." Hermione didn't need to be seen to know that Augusta was talking to her. "When you see that grandmother of yours, you tell her that she may have outlived me, but I've got more time under my belt than she, so she'd best not gloat about it, the bloody ginger bitch." This brought a laugh from the Dimitriou heir, tears sliding down her face at the heartfelt words she had said about her grandson.

"I plan to haunt the halls of that manor for the rest of eternity, you know," she said, chuckling slightly, turning to Hermione. "And when that ruddy hag finally croaks, she'd better haunt them with me if she knows what's best for her." A smile was the young woman's response as Lady Longbottom turned to her grandson. "Don't put yourself through that hell, Boy. You go out there and you live. Live, make a life for yourself, a name for yourself. Only then do you have my permission to walk the halls of that manor again." He nodded, closing his eyes when she delivered a playful jab at his chin. "Buck up, you're a Longbottom! None of this crying business. I'll be right and royally pissed if the last thing I saw was my grandson bawling like some little girl at my bedside. Personally," she started, faux whispering to him. "I wanted to die drunk off my arse on Ogden's finest, but a couple cowardly Death Eaters is as good enough of a second option as it's going to be." He chuckled, raising her fist to his mouth and planting the barest of kisses there. She smiled, Hermione barely registering her slipping her hand out of hers, the light leaving her eyes as it fell limp beside her.

"Let's give him some time to himself," she faintly hears, feeling a hand grasping the one that held Augusta's hand, pulling her to her feet and leading her out of the room. She didn't regain focus until she was out of the room, down the hall, and sitting in a nearly deserted hallway, the first thing she saw not being the large, green orbs of Harry Potter, but the azure gaze of Ronald Weasley, her lip quivering slightly before she pulled him into her arms, clutching him tightly in a way that made her realize that it had been forever since she'd done so. In that moment, she realized that she'd missed him, and as she felt him release her, she smiled when no ill feelings met her heart.

"I owe you both an apology. What I did was wrong, I should have known that you'd have to have an important reason why you kept that information to yourself. It's just," he started, pacing the hall. Harry found them as they were ending their embrace, offering Ron a meaningful look before he took a seat next to Hermione. They waited for him to speak, knowing that he often had to gather himself to prevent himself from saying the wrong thing. "It's just that, you don't know what it's like. Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George. They're all superstars in their own right. Then there's you two. Harry, mate, I know you hate the fame, but you can't deny that when you enter a room, every eye turns to you and they talk about how great you are. Yeah, you have to face the scorn of the public, but when you talk, they listen. When I talk, all they see is your sidekick. Hermione, you're a genius. Deny it all you want, but there has never been a moment when you don't have the answers to something. You're more powerful than any pureblood prick I've ever met and they're already dubbing you the Brightest Witch in a century or something. Then to hear that you're a Dimitriou? Even Mum gushed over your family name when we were kids, about how whoever married into your family would be the luckiest person alive, and that person turns out to be _you._ Honestly, do you have any idea how bloody weird that is. I've known you my whole life and I would have never guessed it. Me, your best friend!" She smiled slightly, placing her hand over his.

"You are not a sidekick, Ron. If anything, you keep us grounded. You know how inflated Harry's ego can get sometimes. You're always there to knock him down a peg or two. And you're so wise. You're irreplaceable as a friend. Don't let anyone lead you to believe that you're not. Yes, the twins are the pranksters, Percy's the brain, Charlie's the heart, and Bill is the leader, but you're what they need, Ron. You're the soul, and without you, everything would fall apart. Ginny looks up to you so much. She may not say it, but she does, I know. You are the glue, and without you, Ronald Weasley, all of this would cease to be."

He smiled, running a hand through his hair as he looks at the bustling community of sick and well, all with the same goal, and that was to go home. Looking up at his friends, he grinned playfully. "And what about Fred and George?"

Harry spoke up at that. "Listen, mate, you can't win 'em all." They all chuckled as Ron punched the dark haired Savior in the arm, a sign that all was well, or at least as well as it could be.

"Do you want to come over? You could room with Harry." Ron shook his head, taking a seat in the waiting room, not far from his family, but far enough to earn them a bit of privacy. "Mum will want up all to stay home tonight." He looked around and leaned closer to them. "Death Eaters killed Augusta Longbottom. The order is panicking and Dumbledore wants to take Harry back to Grimmauld, Neville too." The two of them looked up at that, frowns on their faces. "Harry is not leaving my house, and next week, we're leaving the country, the Death Eaters won't be able to even touch him where we're going. Neville is going home with us." Ron opened his mouth to warn them of the older redhead that stood behind them, but it was too late.

"What do you mean he's going with you two?!" They both turned abruptly to meet the furious expression of Molly Weasley. "Harry and Neville are leaving with us today, and if you had any sense, you would come along with them. The Order," she lowered her voice, her eyes darting around. "The Order is where they will be the safest. They will be surrounded by more than capable wizards, as well as Dumbledore." Hermione rose to her full height, which wasn't the most impressive, but she had a few inches on the Weasley matriarch.

"Harry and Neville are coming home to London tonight. Augusta asked _us_ to take care of Neville. His _friends._ I know you think you're doing what's best and-"

"Now look here, girl-"

"-AND the Order thinks themselves to be his best option, but my parents-"

" _Muggle-"_

"MY! PARENTS!' she powered through, daring the redheaded woman to complete her sentence. People were staring, but she didn't care. She would not let Molly Weasley finish a sentence where she belittled her parents and cheapened all of their hard work to none but two muggles who just fortunate enough to birth The Brightest Witch of Her Age. "-are more than capable of protecting the two of them, Mrs. Weasley. They successfully raised a Dimitriou on their own and have nearly fought the wizard world tooth and nail to keep me. My parents can keep Harry and Neville safe, and if it comes down to it, I believe that Neville should be the one to choose where he goes. Petunia Dursley left Harry in my mother's care, so if you want him, you must take that up with her, but Neville needs us. I asked Ron if he wanted to stay as well, but he informed me that you feel it would be safer if he went home, or back to the Order, and I am perfectly fine with that, but Neville makes his own decisions. He is now a Lord, he doesn't have to go anywhere he does not want to." The shorter woman seemed furious, ready to lash out when a voice spoke up.

"I'm ready whenever you are." The lot of them looked back to see Neville standing behind Ron, exhaustion written on his face as he stared at Hermione, who walked to stand beside him, running a hand over his arm.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for a bit longer? I know how it can be." He smiled, nodding as he placed a hand on her shoulder, making his way over to the Weasley family, pulling the Weasley matriarch into a hug.

"Thank you," he said softly, sure to pour his gratitude into those two words. She had been the first person to grab him, to hold him and tell him everything would be alright. She offered him a shoulder to cry on, a place to live if he ever got lonely, and a chance to be in a family again. Molly Weasley was a wonderful woman and she opened her heart to him when others would have turned their backs. She returned his embrace, clutching to him in a way he often imagined his own mother would have, if she'd been herself. She made him feel that the world wasn't so big, in a way his friends could never hope to. Smiling at her whisper of assurance, that she wasn't upset with him, and if he ever needed her, she would be readily available.

"Are you _absolutely sure_ that you're ready to leave? You know that once we go, we can't come back, right?" He nodded, watching the two of them share a look that spoke volumes, but they nodded, Hermione holding out a hand and pulling him along, Harry placing an arm on his shoulder, lending him strength against the many eyes that watched them. There was an unbearable ache in his chest when the Weasleys left, and he didn't understand where it was coming from, but the further they got from the hospital, the more it ached, Hermione and Harry holding tighter to him as they went on, seemingly understanding their pain. "Just a little bit longer, Neville. Mum and Dad are on the way. Fight through it, just a little longer." He nodded, feeling the cool breeze of the outside air caressing his face, almost in pity of himself. He didn't have much energy in him, he was hurting, and he was exhausted. His eyes grew heavier and heavier as he went, their grips becoming tighter as his eyes grew heavier still and his knees gave away, darkness encompassing the world around him.

When he woke, he was met with the stormy blue eyes of an unfamiliar man, with a head full of silver hair. Opening his mouth to speak, he found his throat to be dry, coughing slightly, alerting the man that he was awake. A glass of water was thrust out in front of him, which he took and consumed greedily.

"You gave us quite the scare, Neville Longbottom." How did this man know his name? Where was he? Looking around, he saw that he was in a room, the walls painted in a beautiful shade of periwinkle, almost matching Hermione's Yule Ball dress from their fourth year. She was undoubtedly beautiful. The Belle of the ball, the Muggles would say. He was in a large sleigh bed, his back supported by numerous pillows. Light fell on him, though it was rather soft. In his window, he was faced with an expanse of grass, a small pond just beneath the window.

He started to ask a question when the door burst open, revealing the auburn haired beauty that he had just been thinking of, dressed in a pair of shorts and a sports bra, a rather shocking contrast to the modest girl he had grown up with, her hair in a mess, meaning that she had likely just awoken. Behind her, of course, was Harry Potter, his glasses twisted on his face, seemingly dressed in his pajamas as well. "Neville," Hermione said in a relieved tone, a smile on her face as she leaped into the bed with him, the dark haired Potter doing the same, though he fell on his stomach, falling fast asleep. Tahe bed was large enough for the three of them to fit, Hermione kneeled beside him, seemingly trying to peer into his very soul.

"We were so worried about you, weren't we, Harry?" When she got no answer, she his the Gryffindor with a pillow, pulling him from his slumber. "Mhm, yeah," he said tiredly, turning his face towards them, blinking sleepily. "Not that I'm not glad you're alright, Nev, but she kept me up all night with her stupid facts and books, I want sleep." The blond chuckled slightly. "Did you learn anything interesting?" Harry scoffed, but humored him. "Before Hogwarts installed indoor plumbing, wizards would just shite themselves and _scourgify_ it." His reward for his statement was a laugh from Neville and another pillow to the face from his gracious host. "Idiot," she murmured, turning to the man that watched them with amusement.

"Neville, this is my dad, Harold Granger," she said, motioning to the older man, a smile on his face as he nodded in acknowledgement. He was so seemingly different from Stavros Dimitriou. He remembered the first day he met him, almost like it was just that morning.

 _If there was one thing Neville Longbottom hated, it was floo travel, especially_ international _floo travel, something that had to be done at least twice monthly when his grandmother, and her best friend, Jocasta Dimitriou. Strange name, his grandmother had always said, contradictory, she said. He didn't know what contradictory meant, but even thinking it made him feel decades smarter than his five year old self could._

" _Jocasta! Get your pale ginger arse in here and say hello to Neville!" The shuffling of feet sounded, the door behind them opening to reveal an woman,her red hair flowing behind her, porcelain skin glowing as she shot Lady Longbottom a glare, kneeling in front of the boy, who his in his grandmother's skirts. Despite her old age, she had a youthful look to her, an image of beauty that it seemed only she could possess, one that seemed to grow with age. Her hazel eyes shone brightly as she reached to cup his face, a voice filling his head._ _ **I see you, Neville Longbottom. You will grow to be a great man.**_ _After that, she rose to her feet, turning to face his grandmother. "Augusta Longbottom, you wretched hag. How many times am I going to have to tell you that I am a redhead, not a ginger? For me to be ginger, I would have to possess both red hair and-" Augusta held up a hand, stepping around the woman and exposing Neville to the lavish interior of the Dimitriou manor. "Where is the girl? I take it I didn't bring Neville along for no reason. The boy nearly got sick all over my shoe._

 _As if she sensed herself being thought of, the doors burst open to reveal a small, redheaded tornado who would flip his world on it's side. "_ _Giagiá! Giagiá!" The woman smiled widely as she stopped the speeding bundle from tackling her legs, the blur coming into focus to reveal a girl, one who seemed to be a photocopy of the woman before her. "Giagiá," she smiled, brushing off her legs. She seemed to have been dressed in muggle clothing, an odd contraption, dunkaroos, if he remembered correctly._

" _Adad," she said, motioning for her to stand in front of the boy. He'd known that he was rather tall for his age, but the girl didn't even reach his shoulder, her large, hazel eyes staring curiously at him. Her eyes squinted as she leaned closer, her small nose wrinkling as she scrutinized him._

" _Polý adýnatos. Kakó agóri. Aschimos." He didn't know what she said, but he did know that he liked it. It sounded amazing coming from her beautiful lips, pouty and pink, the very color his face was beginning to turn. She frowned at him, cocking her head. "Giatí moiázei me aftó? Den ton sympathó." A smile spread across his face. More beautiful words from this beautiful girl._

" _Adad, it is rude to speak about people in what they do not understand. This is Neville Longbottom, and he is the grandson of my dear friend, Augusta. He doesn't have many friends, so I was wondering if you would like the honor of becoming his first friend?" She cocked an eyebrow, frowning as she looked him up and down, clearing her throat before sticking out a hand._

" _Hello," she started slowly, speaking in a rather thick accent that he had to strain his ears to hear. "My name is Adad Dimitriou and I am five years old." Five years old? She was just as old as him, yet she was so small! His thoughts had wandered before he realized that he hadn't accepted her hand. Grabbing it firmly, he raised it to his wet lips, planting a sloppy kiss there. The women looked rather amused as she held an expression that he would know in his older years was disgust, but in his younger years, he paid it no mind. She discreetly wiped her hand on the front of her dunkaroos, muttering to herself as she walked on, it being evident that he was to follow._

 _Three hours into their playtime and she had yet to utter a single word to him. And to be honest, she didn't have to. She had an aura about her, that her words needed not be spoken for him to know what she wanted. When he'd fallen off of the second step, his own feet entangling him, she simply brushed him off, then continuing on without a word. She could hear their grandmothers laughing loudly. A set of footsteps also filled the air. They were sure and strong, a man's footsteps, though he couldn't tell if it was a good man or a bad man. He could always tell, but only if they were where he was. Once, his uncle tried to sneak up on him in the gardens and scare him, but he was able to move out of the way just in time. If his grandmother was in a bad mood and coming to find him, he could always hide._

" _Adad." The thick voice cut through the air, almost as if he was standing next to them, but he was several meters away. Neville's eyes scanned the yard until they reached his feet, only to find finely tailored shoes, likely made from the best material. He travelled up his legs, long and sturdy, making him with he had such assurance. He looked at his arms, powerfully built in a white button up shirt, the sight making his tummy flutter slightly. On his hands, there were several rings, each containing rare gems, those which he had never even seen before._

" _Patéras," Adad said, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her dunkaroos. From where she had been in the dirt, tending to a flower. She said when it bloomed, it would sing, and if he was a good friend, he could come listen. He had never heard of such a thing, and he wanted to see it. "Aftós eínai o fílos mou-" She seemed to catch herself, remember her grandmother's word. "This is my friend, Neville." He liked the way she said his name, it sounded different, almost like a poem._

 _The man didn't seem so interested, or at least that was what Neville could feel. He was too terrified to look the man in his face, scooting closer and extending his hand. When he got no response, then he managed to look up, though he wish he hadn't. Stavros Dimitriou was a handsome man, or so he had often heard, with his strong jaw, clear skin, and sharp, blue eyes that made even his own knees weak. His full lips were pulled back in a sneer, staring down at his hand as if it were poison. A hand smacking his down told him that Adad was standing next to him, her eyes wide, but standing at an angle that if the man decided to kick or strike, she would catch the impact. He decided in that moment he did not like Stavros Dimitriou. "Lypámai, patéra," she started hurriedly, lowering her head slightly. "Tha páme tóra mésa." With that, she pulled him behind her, hurrying inside the large manor._

 _When they entered the room, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, a sign that she had smacked him. "Anóito agóri! Prospatheíte na pethánete?!" He stared at her with confusion, tears welling in his eyes as she stared at him, her hands planted on her nonexistent hips. "Dry your tears, I barely touched you, idiot boy," she hissed, glaring at him. "You will not do that again, Katalavaínete!?" she said, waving her pointer finger with every stressed syllable. He must not have answered quick enough, as he received another smack to the back of the neck, his eyes watering, but he dared not let the tears fall, for she had barely touched him. "Katalavaínete?!" He nodded rapidly._

" _Katalavaínete, katalavaínete!" She smiled, patting him on the shoulder._

" _Kalos, Neville. Very good."_

A smack similar to the one from his memory startled him back to reality, his eyes landing on Harry, hissing as he rubbed the back of his neck, Hermione glaring at him. It seemed not much had changed. The Granger patriarch chuckled, informing them all that be would go and get breakfast started soon, and for Neville to rest. Hermione rose from his bedside, placing a kiss on his cheek as she made her way to the door, Harry not far behind.

 **Translations**

 _Polý adýnatos. Kakó agóri. Aschimos._ __ **Too Skinny. Scrawny boy, Ugly**

 _Giagiá_ **Grandmother**

 _Giatí moiázei me aftó? Den ton sympathó._ **Why is he looking like that? I don't like him.**

 _Patéras_ **Father**

 _Aftós eínai o fílos mou_ **This is my friend**

 _Lypámai, patéra. Tha páme tóra mésa._ **He is sorry, father. We will go inside now.**

 _Anóito agóri! Prospatheíte na pethánete?_ **Foolish boy! Are you trying to die?**

 _Katalavaínete!?_ **Understood!?**

 **Anyone who knows me(And since very few of you do, this is kind of news) will know that for Augusta Longbottom, I have always pictured Dame Angela Lansbury, or if many of you don't know, Aunt Adelaide from Nanny McPhee, Sybil Vane from The Portrait of Dorian Grey, Mrs. Potts from Beauty and The Beast, Miss Daisy from Driving Miss Daisy, Nellie Lovett from Sweeney Todd, Jessica Fletcher, the main character from Murder, She Wrote. I don't know why her face comes up, but it does. For Jocasta, however, I've decided on Susan Sharandon, who is known as Janet Weiss from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Jane Spoffard on The Witches of Eastwick, Louise Sawyer from Thelma and Louise, Marmee March from Little Women(EEP), Queen Narrissa from Enchanted, just all in all, a solid performer. I don't know what it is about these two women, but that's who I want.**

 **Also, yes, I know they're called dungarees, or overalls for those who don't fund any familiarity in the word. It's just young Neville not really understanding all words. He's five, it won't come to him easily.**

 **SO this is Chapter… seven! It honestly doesn't even feel like I've done that many chapters, but here we are. I've been very busy with writing recently, planning novels and preparing myself for a creative writing competition. You guys make my day bright and your reviews put a smile on my face. I hope you all are having a lovely spring/fall, and I look forwards to writing to you next time. Until we meet again loves.**

 **Thank you for reading**

 **Stay weird,**

 **Momo**


	8. When Redheads Collide

**Okay, something I found a bit odd, but when I published the last chapter, I noticed that for some reason, some of my words were actually missing and that was rather confusing. When I finished the document, I check my word count and Google Docs told me that my story came up to exactly 4500 words, which I was actually aiming for, so yea, but for some reason, when I put the document on Fanfiction, it said that the document was 4496 words, which I found weird. I know it's like four words, so it's not the end of the world, but still.**

 **ALSO, I was wondering if any of you are writers on this site and use page breaks. I insert horizontal lines in my documents, but they don't show up in my finished copy for some reason. Buuuutttt…. Back to the book, this is Chapter 8.**

The Granger house was in an uproar, and Hermione Granger was in stitches as she watched her mother and father scream at the top of their lungs at each other.

"KILL IT!"

"CALM DOWN!"

"DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH! KILL IT!"

"WHY DO I HAVE TO KILL IT, YOU COW?!"

"YOU'RE THE MAN!" 

It was a spider, a tiny spider, and they were both about to lose their minds. Harry and Neville stood in the doorway as her parents stood in the middle of the room, her mother screaming a rather concerning number of explicatives every time the spider moved at all. It wasn't even as large as a dime, but they were acting as if it were holding them at gunpoint. Deciding that enough was enough, she grabbed a sheet of paper, making her way over to the corner the small creature that sat there, likely terrified by it's shoe wielding hosts. Coaxing the small creature onto the paper, she walked over to the front door, half tempted to throw it on them, but restraining herself as she led it outside and deposited it in a bush.

When she came back, they acted as if nothing happened, going about their separate ways, getting ready for work as Harry and Neville shook their heads. The three of them made their way towards the stairs, Harry playfully mocking Josephine's comical reaction to such a small creature, cowering in the corner.

"So, Diagon Alley?" Harry looked down at something he definitely dreaded. Despite the fact that he had discovered many new things about Hermione, like her desire to get a tattoo, her "hidden" collection of trashy romance novels, and her penchant for climbing trees, as well as an irrational fear of ducks, some things remained the same. For instance, her need to have control of _everything_. In her hand, was her method of said control, the weekly planner. Since the death of Augusta Longbottom, she had planned their days so full, he was often exhausted by the time they made it back home. He understood her need to keep Neville occupied, but he was actually fine during the day. It was at night when he had problems. He wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't talk, and the only person that seemed to get through to him was Mr. Granger. Looking down at the planner, however, he was surprised to find only one task written for the day. "We're taking the Knight Bus again?"

Hermione nodded as she pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, scratching the exposed skin of her stomach. "We need to get books on apparation training for Neville, then we can really enjoy ourselves. I've never been to Diagon just to simply run a few errands and enjoy an afternoon, and it's a crying shame." The two Gryffindor males looked at one another, rolling their eyes. They loved her dearly, but Hermione needed female friends, and she needed them soon. Harry's mind wandered as he tried to compile a list of girls who Hermione hadn't managed to agitate endlessly with a seemingly limitless supply of facts, lectures on the rules, and all in all things that were simply _Hermione_.

"I'm actually going to miss this place," Neville said, his eyes scanning Hermione's wall, resting on her "fairy lights" that stood out against her black walls. It was odd, seeing such a dark color surrounding one who was so full of life, but it was fitting. Even though they were surrounded by a color that reminded them much of death, he never felt gloomy, looking at her numerous pictures, one catching his eye. He thought it was hermione for a minute, but closer inspection told him that it was Jocasta, seemingly pruning her garden, something he remembered that she took up after her beloved Henry died. Henry Dimitriou was a kind man, and he never understood how people so lovely and filled with zest would birth a monster like Stavros Dimitriou and love him as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. It was like Molly and Arthur Weasley giving birth to Lucius Malfoy, it was absolutely ridiculous.

It was their last day in the Granger home, as the next day, they would be rising early and heading off to the Ministry to take an international portkey to Rhodes, Greece. Hermione's parents wouldn't arrive until later, opting for muggle transportation, and the three teenagers would be left in the custody of Jocasta Dimitriou, who Harry was elated to meet. From what Neville remembered the last time he'd seen her, she'd gone a bit loopy, what with the death of her husband, son, and _beloved_ daughter-in-law, though if Neville was completely honest, she was a bit of a cow. Then, to top it off, her precious Adad had been taken away. She'd suffered a nervous breakdown and ended up in the custody of the psychiatric wing of St. Ignatios, which was pretty much St. Mungos with much better uniforms. "Alright boys, lets get dressed, get some breakfast in us, and then we can get our lazy bottoms right on to Diagon Alley. Ron said he and Ginny will meet us at Fred and George's shop, so we'd best get on with it." The two of them nodded, each heading off to their respective rooms to prepare for the day.

…

"You're going to Diagon Alley wearing that?" Hermione seemed to seriously underestimate the appeal she now had to men, and if Neville's blush was any indicator, it was quite a bit. Though there was nothing inherently _wrong_ with her clothing, she wasn't just going for a stroll in the Muggle world, she was venturing into the wizard world, the very _conservative_ wizard world, where such things were not acceptable for a young lady.

She looked down at her clothes, a frown coming to her face. She wore a sensible pair of shorts, ones she picked especially because they made her legs look wonderful, accompanied by a white shirt she'd tucked in. Her hair was a bit too long and she'd wanted to get it cut, but despite all her maturity, her mum still scheduled all of her hair appointments. It was straightened, falling to her hips, a light fedora on to keep the light out of her eyes, accompanied by her mother's fashion spectacles, with blue tinted frames. One her feet, she had a nice pair of chunky heels, four inches tall. She hadn't seen anything wrong with it. Neville cleared his throat, gathering her attention before she could demand to know exactly what was wrong with her choice of clothing.

"Hermione," he started slowly, knowing from many years of friendship that if he didn't carefully choose his next few words, he just might end up on the receiving end of the back of her hand, which was not favorable or worse yet, the end of her wand. "What Harry means is, people in the wizard world are much more conservative than here in the Muggle world, even with your new overcoat, they'll make you feel very uncomfortable. Ah!" He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "We know that it's stupid and you can wear whatever you like, it's none of their business, but you said that you wanted a relaxed last day, we don't need you jabbing some old man's eyeball out in the middle of Diagon Alley." He watched as a myriad of emotions passed across her face, probably all a result of her trying to find an argument, but in the end, she had none and he smiled in victory once she turned and made her way towards the stairs as Harry turned back to the breakfast he was preparing.

"Alright, do we have _everything_ we need?" Harry nodded and Neville looked uncertain. Hermione had done nothing but change out her bottoms for a nice pair of khaki pants, but all in all, it was a step and not worth an argument. Grabbing her wand, she stuck it out, the sound of tires squealing catching each of their ears as the Knight Bus hit the corner at absolutely dangerous speeds, nearly ramming into the Grangers' mailbox, which would have likely made Josephine take serious measures to figure out how to flag the Knight Bus herself and demand he pay for it in pounds or his own blood. The woman was seriously frightening.

Neville's first ride on the Knight bus was the worst thing he had ever done and he made Hermione promise that the next time, they would take the double decker bus through muggle london so his heart wouldn't have to go through the trauma again. She'd simply shaken her head, leading the both of them on as she led the way to Flourish and Botts.

...

They didn't know how it came to be, but a crowd gathered in the doorway of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where a very heated and whispered argument was going on between Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger, having started on who was to go in the door first. It was a childish argument to say the least, and the panel of boys had actually stopped glaring at one another, each seeming annoyed with their female companions.

"You are the _rudest_ person I've ever had the inconvenience of-"

"You should recognize your superiors, you common-"

"When someone holds the door open for you, you should thank them, not shove them out of the way! I have half a mind to deck you in your stupid face, you-"

"Name calling, that's real mature, Grang-"

"Oh, _that's rich_ , coming from an overgrown _toddler_ with-"

"LADIES!" The two of them looked up, eyes narrowed at their intruder, who just so happened to be Mr. Fortescue himself. Clearing his throat, he carefully stepped in between the two of them, his hand clutching the door and pushing it open. "Please, enter," he said, not appreciating the curious eyes that scanned the two groups. Pansy shoved the former brunette out of the way, entering the shop with her nose held high, the older shopkeeper placing a hand in front of the former, stopping her just as she leaped out to snatch the short haired Slytherin right out of her shoes. Harry entered first, pulling her behind him with Neville coming up on her rear, the three of them taking the only table available, which was, as if fate had found a way to punish them further, right next to the quad of Slytherins' table.

"Why do you think Ron and Ginny were so late?" Hermione looked up from her menu, a frown on her face as she shook her head. Sure, she had a suspicion, but she didn't want to make any assumptions. After her emotional overshare the last time the lot of them were together at Hogwarts, Hermione seemed to have reevaluated her friendship with Ginny, though she would not speak on it to Harry. She'd talked to her mum and Josephine, wise as she was, suggested that maybe she and Ginny had been friends for the wrong reasons. Hermione was Harry's best friend, it was no secret that Ginny had a massive crush on Harry, and through that, that was likely why they had become friends. She had wanted to argue, to say that that wasn't true, that she and Ginny got on great, Harry not even being the many parts of their long talks. She refused to believe such a thing, that Ginny was using her to get closer to Harry.

Josephine then went on to say that Ginny was Hermione's only girl friend. Sure, she got on well enough as could be expected with other girls, but Ginny was her only friend, the only girl that didn't tease her, even if it was playful, for being a swot, and Hermione had simply not appreciated Ginny as she should have. Ginny Weasley was like a glass window. She was strong, she protected Hermione from the throes of the outside world, but she was _delicate_ , and a boulder that was so rightfully named Adad Dimitriou had shattered her, and she didn't know where to begin picking up the pieces. Their friendship had been nearly destroyed and was in desperate need of repair, and if they did not try, Josephine Granger and Sybil Trelawney would be replaced with younger, more appealing female leads.

As they all talked amongst themselves, Neville expressing how excited he was to be learning about apparation, a shadow crossed over their table. Looking up, the three of them were met with the gazes of the four Slytherin, each looking at them with varying levels of confusion and disgust. Pansy stood at the front, clearing her throat when the silence became too much.

"Since you're already here, Longbottom," she started, the fact that she didn't want to be talking to him being more than evident. "We'd like to extend our condolences for your grandmother. She was truly," she paused, holding up the fakest, most uncomfortable looking smile Hermione had ever seen on a human being. It was so out of place that even Harry cringed. Neville stared up at them, placing his spoon down in his ice cream bowl, wiping his mouth with a napkin with a grace that she had never even thought to associate with him. Then again, she had never actually sat and watched him eat, either. Sitting back in his seat, he took a deep breath and gave them a once over. "She was truly a strong woman."

"You offer me your condolences after you laughed when your father stated that he couldn't wait until she kicked the bucket?" Her eyes widened, a slight tinge coming to her cheeks when she moved from one foot to the other. "It is rather unfortunate," he started, though the use of the word sound stale, dead on his tongue and unbefitting of him. "Though it is rather unfortunate that my grandmother passed away so swiftly," he started again, staring up at them. "I will not accept false sympathies from those who will soon be out to hurt myself and those close to me." Straightening his posture, he leaned forwards. "You're not sorry that she's gone. None of you are, so don't pretend as such. You can take your condolences and shove them up your bloody arses for all I care because I don't want them. Augusta Longbottom was a bitch and had no respect for those who would hurt others to save their own arses, to stay in the Ministry's pocketbook. She may have been the hardest person to live with, with a personality that would drive any sensible man insane, but she was real, she was honest, and a hell of a lot stronger than I could ever hope to be. You know nothing about my grandmother, you didn't even like her, so please," he finished, his eyes alight as he stared up at the lot of them, all who seemed to have been thoroughly chastised. "Spare me whatever this is and leave me to mourn in peace." The lot of them nodded, standing awkwardly as he turned to his friends, a grimace on his face. "I'm ready to leave." He didn't say more, didn't elaborate, simply pushed his frozen treat away, waiting for them to finish. Nodding, Hermione stood, Harry's eyes glued on Parkinson, seemingly scrutinizing her before standing, offering a hand to let Neville go first.

"Alright there, Nev?" The blond smiled as Ron Weasley offered him a one armed hug, smiling to his two best friends as Ginny followed, smiling to Neville and Harry, not even offering Hermione a glance. Though it hurt, the redhead greeted Ron warmly, patting his shoulder as they all walked together. Neville finally managed to free himself of Ron's embrace, walking closer to Hermione, who held out a hand, lending a bit of support to him, though not wanting to say anything to trigger any bad feelings. He accepted it gratefully, squeezing slightly as they went, trying to figure which place they would go first.

…

"Ginny, can I talk to you for a second?" The boys had separated from them and the lot of them would meet up for lunch, Hermione wanting to take a small trip to the cat and tea shop, where she would get items for Crookshanks and teas for her dad, but before she went anywhere of the sort, she wanted to speak with Ginny. She was so confused. Confused as to why Ginny was even angry with her, why everything seemed to be going horridly with their friendship. Ginny was one of her best friends, it hurt to be treated this way, especially when she didn't know why.

"Sure, Dimitriou. It's your world, I'm just living in it, yeah?" She wanted to be angry, but all she could manage was to straighten her back, grateful when Ginny made her way a bit off of the alley, to an area of benches that stood in the sun, surrounded by shrubbery. It was a lovely day, if she was completely honest, the weather having been good after a horrid bit of London rain.

"Why are you acting this way, Ginny?" The youngest Weasley looked at her with wide eyes. Could she not see it? She, heir to one of the most prestigious pureblood houses in Europe, couldn't bloody _see_ it? Whilst they were walking, she heard two old women talking about her, none the wiser that the very subject of their conversation had _passed_ them. She was a Dimitriou. She had heard stories of the celebrated pureblood family. They were literally descendants of _Merlin_ , said to possess a power so great, others could not comprehend it! Hermione Granger could trace her lineage back to the most powerful wizard to ever live. And she knew it. She always knew it, yet she walked the halls of Hogwarts, pretending to be this humble muggleborn with muggle parents. Stavros Dimitriou was the man of even her own mother's dreams. Her mother had even considered writing up a marriage contract and sending it off to Greece, offering to marry his daughter off to _Bill_ , someone who was damn near ten years older than her, knowing the pureblood elitist would likely curse her contract and send it back to her. Many people worshiped the ground they walked on. She remembered once, when she was little, they held a parade in honor of them simply visiting Diagon Alley and she'd been unfortunate enough to meet the ever celebrated Adad Dimitriou.

…

 _Five year old Ginny Weasley walked into Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, her pockets filled with sickles as she stared up to get her favorite ice cream flavor, chocolate. She'd separated from her parents, having had been granted ten minutes alone by Bill, who had quickly gone with Charlie to the quidditch shop to look at their racing brooms. She was grateful for it, but that was when she saw her,_

 _Adad Dimitriou, if she was honest, could have been mistaken for her sister if it were not evident that they were worlds apart, or the darker shade of Adad's hair. Where she had on a worn jumper, the older, yet smaller girl wore a crisp white tip, one that could only have been pressed by house elves. Ginny's hair felt just a tad past her ears, pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of her eyes. The Dimitriou heir's auburn locks were piled atop her head, revealing an expanse of pale skin, usually only attained from days upon days spent indoors, partaking in activities befitting of a lady, not outside the Burrow chasing gnomes and rolling in dirt._

 _Despite it all, Ginny found herself interested in the girl. So interested, in fact, that she made her way over and sat across from her, attracting the heiress's eye, which didn't seem very fond of her presence. Clearing her throat, she extended her hand after wiping it on her shirt. "Nice to meet you, My name is Ginny." The Dimitriou heir eyed her hand and after about a minute of silence, it became clear that she wasn't going to take it. Her cheeks flamed pink with embarrassment as she lowered her hand, coughing awkwardly._

" _Charmed," was all she offered and Ginny found in that very moment that Adad Dimitriou was not a very nice girl. "I'd ask you what sensible person names their child Ginny, but I don't need to. You have carrot colored hair, terrible quality of clothing, and you smell funny. You must be Ginevra Weasley." She hated being called that. It was very odd. An evident stream of insults made against her person and her family, and it was the older girl calling her by her given name that offended her. "I don't need to tell you my name, I'm sure you probably know it better than your own, mostly because it is better than your own." She couldn't believe her ears, though she didn't interrupt. "As nice as I'm assuming that you thought this chat would have been, I must go. It is unbecoming of a lady in my position to be conversing with common street rats that can't even afford an ice cream cone." Rising daintily, she gathered the object she was holding in her hand, a rather thick textbook with an odd drawing on it. Hurrying to her feet, Ginny approached the girl, hoping that her size would show her that she meant business, but she was simply shoved out of the way, falling on her bottom as her ice cream landed on the floor beside her. She sat in that position for about five minutes, until Bill and Charlie came in, tears falling as she hugged her elder brothers and bawled about the mean girl who made her ice cream fall on the ground. Having seen the entire altercation, the ice cream shop owner decided to gift her with a free ice cream, with no one, but_ two _scoops._

Thinking back to that girl, it was hard to imagine her as Hermione Granger, one who had always been so compassionate and pure. While her original intentions for befriending the bushy haired muggleborn in her second year weren't exactly pure, she had found a companion like no other in Hermione and to discover that this amazing woman was the first person to ever make her feel small and less than her worth broke Ginny a bit. Charlie and Bill had gone in and splurged in her a pint of chocolate ice cream that they took home. She cried and cried in Bill's bed, surrounded by his very used blanket, blowing her nose into it and snotting the place up. When she told her parents, they had looked at her with the most pitying expressions and her mum hugged her tightly, informing her that it would be alright.

"I've been your friend for how long? Four years? You didn't even trust me enough to tell me? Hmm? How do you think it feels, being in the Department of Mysteries, fighting for my _life_ , then I look over to find my best friend and I see one of _them_?" She watched as the bookworm's eyes widened, opening her mouth to protest, but Ginny held up a hand. "Save it! What's so bad about being pureblood, huh? What's so bad about being rich? What's so bad about our world that you decided to abandon it and then come back like it never happened? You literally had the wizard world in the palm of your hand and you decided to just abandon it? What, Mummy and Daddy wouldn't buy you your favorite horse? Did your house elf mess up your breakfast and you couldn't take it anymore? You expect me to feel _sorry_ for you that you _lied_ about having this extravagant life while you played poor little muggleborn at Hogwarts every year?" She looked up, expecting to find some cool facade associated with the girl she remembered from her childhood, but instead, there was a cackling in the air, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as she stared into what could be classified as the physical embodiment of hell, and it was about to swallow Ginevra Molly Weasley whole.

"Is that what you think?" Her voice sounded strained, as if she was using every ounce of self control she possessed to keep from murdering the youngest Weasley. "Hmm? Is that what you think of me? That being Dimitriou is pretty dresses and extravagant horses? That all I did was sit on a pedestal and command my subjects like some posh dickhead with a superiority complex? What a life!" She began to pace, narrowing her eyes at the redheaded girl. "Well forgive me for being _born_. I can't believe you! I get more acceptance from bloody _Parkinson_ than I do from you and you're supposed to be my best friend. You didn't even try so see why I didn't tell anyone about it, didn't try to say, 'Well, Hermione might have had a reason that she didn't want to share this with anyone.' But no, all of a sudden I'm some pureblood princess and a blood supremacist because you can't look past your own insecurities!" Ginny's back straightened, but she was stopped by a hand. "Don't you dare. Don't you _fucking dare_ try and interrupt me! I gave you your chance to speak and it's my turn." Her voice trembled, her face streaked with tears.

"I thought that out of all people that would make it not seem so bad, you would at least _try_ , Ginny. Try to understand, try to listen, but you're the worst one. At least Ron apologized for the way he acted! You were my best friend." The use of that world made Ginny feel like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. Were? What did she mean? "I think it's best," she started, her mouth setting in a firm line, as if she was going to regurgitate something unpleasant. "I think it's best if we don't speak to each other for a while. With the mood I'm in right now, I can say things to you that would make you hate me, Ginevra." With that, she turned on her heel and left the redhead standing, the sun beating down on her, almost as if it were passing on punishment, judging her with every ray. Looking around, she shook her head, taking off in the opposite direction that she'd come.

…

Trouble in friendship town?" She didn't need to look up to know it was Parkinson, her eyes scanning the shelves lined with cat toys, trying to figure which one Crooks would like the most. He wasn't a fan of the lights, as he was too lazy to get off his fat arse and chase them.

"Not in the mood," she said simply, running her hand over a scrathing post, frowning at the odd texture, something she was sure Crookshanks would not like. As she moved, she noticed hat Parkinson hadn't moved from the spot she was in, a sigh escaping her as she turned around, facing the dark haired Slytherin girl, annoyance clearly written on her face. "What do you want? Hmm? To make fun of me, to talk about my squib parents? To make me feel less than you? Save it, I don't want to hear it."

"You Gryffindor cretin don't appreciate kindness when it's presented to you. You're just like Longbottom, the uncivilized oaf. I try to be cordial with him and this is the thanks I get?" Hermione stared at her, wondering if she was actually serious or not. When the Parkinson heir didn't say anything, she sighed, crossing her arms.

"Do you actually hear yourself, Pansy?" The pug nosed girl sniffed disdainfully, though the use of her given name sent a jolt through her being. Never had she heard Hermione Granger utter her name and if she was honest, it sounded rather nice, though the disappointment made her stomach churn slightly. "I mean seriously, do you hear yourself? You are such a _bitch_ , how _dare_ you speak about Neville that way?!" The volume of her voice attracted the eyes of fellow patrons in the shop and Pansy opened her mouth to defend herself, but the redhead held up a hand, stopping her words.

"Neville wouldn't dare say anything, but im not Neville and I refuse to sit here and allow you to insult him to my face when _you_ are the one in the wrong." Her chest was heaving as she glared at the Slytherin. "He's just lost his grandmother, you insipid cow! She was all he had left and now she's gone! How would you feel if your mother died and Ginny told you how _sorry_ she was about your loss when just a month ago, she insulted you mother to your face?! I'm not surprised you said what you said, but you had the _audacity_ to stand in his face and give out false sympathies. Of course he isn't going to accept it, you've never had a nice thing to say about Augusta Longbottom a day in your life!" She balled her fists, shaking her head. "This is a new low, even for you." The way she said it, the way she sounded, as if she was _disgusted_ caused shame to gather in the pit of Pansy's stomach. As she watched her leave to another part of the store, she let her head fall, the patrons dispersing as she shot them a withering glare, turning on her heel and exiting the shop. She knew what she had to do, even though she didn't want to do it.

 **Hello all ^^! It is I, your friendly neighborhood Momo and I must admit, I'm still unreliable. Sadly, I've recently broken my glasses, so writing has been a little slow. Well… more than a little but still. This will definitely be the final chapter in England until sixth year starts and things start to really get going. Next chapter, Jocasta Dimitriou will definitely be introduced and she's a bit of a character, much like another person we know. She is a very instrumental plot device though, as several of you may actually be able to guess what it is that she will do.**


	9. Rhodes

"You're both going to have so much fun here." Harry smiled as he watched Hermione's large eyes observe the land around them, almost as if she was in a completely different world. He assumed that, in a way, she was. From what she'd sad when they'd arrived to the International Portkey office at the Grecian Ministry of Magic, she hadn't been back in years, her grandmother often opting to come visit the Grangers in London. She'd excitedly ticked off detail after detail about the place and how much it differed from Muggle Rhodes, which he could immediately tell by the lack of people. Muggle Rhodes was a popular tourist area, packed full with many people of several different races, religions, and creeds.

While seeing Hermione's mood seemingly go higher and higher he noticed that his other companion was not in such high spirits, and he knew exactly what led up to such a somber mood, and it took the form of a short, dark haired Slytherin girl who seemed to destroy the happiness of any that was so unfortunate as to cross her path. That person, was Pansy Parkinson. And in her defense, she hadn't actually done anything wrong.

…

 _There were many sights that Harry Potter never thought he'd see, and his best friend on his knees with his ear pressed against a broom cupboard door was definitely one of them. When his shadow crossed over the gangly redhead, the sound of slightly mufled swearing caught his ear._

" _Mate, what are you-" Ron jumped, placing his hand on his chest as he met Harry's gaze, placing a finger to his lips and waving him toward the door. Against his better judgement, he decided to do so, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline at the sound of not only Neville's shouting, but_ Pansy Parkinson's shouting. _"Bloody hell," he whispered, throwing all morals aside and pressing his ear into the door._

" _SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU KNEW NOTHING ABOUT MY GRANDMOTHER!"_

" _I KNEW ENOUGH TO GIVE YOU MY CONDOLENCES YOU BLOND BASTARD!"_

 _Never had he heard his usually rather nervous friend sound so furious. Parkinson was really pushing his buttons and for a second, he wondered if Neville would do something drastic. Ron seemed to feel the same way, as his hand hovered over his back pocket, where his wand likely lay, causing a slight smile to appear on the dark haired Gryffindor's face as he thought of their brief stint of formal education under the watchful eye of the rather insane yet brilliant eyes of Barty Crouch Jr._

" _I try to be nice to you Gryffindor fuckwits for once and this is the thanks I get?! What do you want me to say, she inspired me?! That she was the bravest person I can think of? Is that what you want?! Well you can shove it up your bloody arse, Longbottom! I barely knew the fucking woman, but I felt sorry for you!"_

" _I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING SYMPATHIES!" You could hear the heavy breaths he was taking, Harry picturing his chest rising and falling as he stared down at the rather petite girl. It was very rare when Neville lost it, and when he did, it was never pretty. "I don't need_ anyone's sympathies _. I am_ _ **tired**_ _. I want to get over it, I want to move past it, and every time I turn around, it's being thrown in my face that I have NO ONE! Do you know how that feels, Parkinson," he spat her name out like it left a bitter taste in his mouth._

" _I've spent my entire life as the butt of some sick fucking joke that some divine entity seems to be telling and people think I want to be reminded of that shit! I want to finally start living my life without people like you here to constantly remind me how shitty it is!" Heavy footfalls caused the two of them to jump up, afraid they were going to be caught eavesdropping, but after two minutes of nothingness, they tentatively placed their ears back where they'd come from._

" _One day. All I asked for was one day to live my life as a normal teenage boy, to not be reminded of my insane parents or my dead grandmother. I wanted to go to an ice cream shop, have a good time with my fucking friends, and fuck off to Muggle London but you couldn't let me have that, could you? Instead, you bring your bloody fucking Death Eater friends and you talk about how_ sorry _you are for my loss." The silence that followed was nearly deafening, the two of them almost sure they'd cast a muffling charm if not for the lack of buzzing in the air._

" _They weren't lies." More silence. "I'm not the heartless bitch you dimwits think I am. If I didn't care, I would have never apologized. I would have mocked you on the streets. I don't make light of death and I'm not going to sit here and be treated like I'm some evil being hell bent on making your life miserable because you don't know how to deal with your emotions!" Her voice grew louder and louder until she was nearly screeching, and Harry wondered how the whole store hadn't heard them by now._

" _If you don't want my condolences, then fine, don't take them. But only blame me for what I did, not what you think I've done. I've got enough of that shit to deal with as it is, I don't need it from you too." The sound of approaching footsteps startled them out of their situation, only buying them enough time to press their backs to the wall as the door swung open, revealing Neville storming in the opposite direction of where they came, Parkinson exiting soon after, closing the door only to come face to face with the two Gryffindor boys, her expression all too unimpressed._

" _Oh, look at the time," Ron blurted out. "We have to go meet Ginny!" Before he could even react, he was grabbed by his elbow and pulled away from her skeptical gaze,hurrying to anywhere but there._

…

"Harry!"

Coughing, he looked up, seeing Hermione and Neville standing in the doorway of their compartment. Looking around, he realized that the train had stopped and they had reached their destination. Running a hand across his face, he rose to his full height, grabbing his suitcase from above his seat. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out a bit." They shared a look, Neville rolling his eyes as he stepped out of the compartment, Hermione hesitating a bit before following.

"I hope he managed to find her way alright. We can't have her getting lost now, can we?" Harry and Neville followed Hermione as she easily navigated through the crowd of people getting off of the train. This was nothing compared to the several stops they'd had to make on the muggle train they'd needed to take in order to find the Rhodes train, but there were still quite a few people, mostly students making their way home from various wizarding and muggle schools.

"You know, I am beginning to believe that she thinks of me as an invalid." The two boys jumped as a voice spoke behind them, causing them to make a sharp turn before they were staring into the face of Jocasta Dimitriou herself. She smiled warmly to them, Harry's first observation being her height. She was tall drink of water if he had never seen one. It was odd, seeing what looked to be a stretched out version of Hermione. Unlike her granddaughter, her auburn locks fell just below her collarbone, wrinkled creases shown near her hazel eyes. She was a bit tanner as well, as opposed to his surrogate sister's pale complexion.

"Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom." He found it no surprise that she immediately stepped up to Neville and hugged him, saying nothing as he embraced her tightly, bending his back to get a good hold on her much more slight frame.

Pulling back, she took a good look at him, her smile falling as she observed him. "I guess I can't call you the precious little boy who Adad dragged through the halls anymore." Running her hands up his arms, she sighed. "No, I cannot. You are a man now." With that, she released him, turning her gaze to Harry.

"You must be the new addition to this family," she said, a small smile coming to her face as she stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

 _ **She chose well.**_

He jumped, stepping away from her as the voice left his head. It was odd, almost as if ne second, he was fine, and the next, she had blasted through his mind and ran out without closing the door behind herself. It was a rather queer feeling but it made her chuckle, offering him a reassuring look before a red mass came in between the two men.

"I should have known you were following us," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around the older woman, being rewarded with an equally expressive hug. When they separated, Hermione turned to Harry, staring at him with an odd expression before clearing her throat and announcing them that it was time for them to leave. Jocasta seemed to agree, walking ahead of the group and leading them to a horse drawn carriage. The three of them climbed in after her, both in awe of how spacious it was inside.

"Did you three enjoy your train ride? I know it can be a bit boring." He didn't know what he had concocted in his unconscious thoughts of what Jocasta Dimitriou would behave or look like, but this wasn't it. He's expected someone who was almost like a Greek Trelawney, but she was _British_ , and very much so even more so than Hermione herself. Her eyes were alert and she seemed to see right through him with those intense hazel eyes that she shared with another member of their carriage. The dress she wore was muggle, and likely very expensive, seeming to flow against her lithe figure like water. Hermione seemed to sense his discomfort, answering the woman's questions for him as they made their way towards a thick row of trees, Jocasta announcing that they had less than ten minutes to arrive to their destination.

"This place is a lot different than I remember," Neville said as he and Harry began making their way to the rooms Jocasta had prepared for them. Hermione had her own wing of the manor, one she insisted that the two of them come visit her in once they got settled in their own rooms. In front of them was a house elf that Hermione had referred to as Gertha. I was dd, actually seeing her interact with house elves, half expecting her to present them with clothes as soon as she laid eyes on them. Gertha greeted Hermione frostily, which served to only make the redhead smile, telling he and Neville that she would take good care of them.

Gertha was short and stout, wearing a uniform that bore the Dimitriou house crest, an entire ensemble that looked as if it cost more than his entire wardrobe. While she wasn't very nice, he could say that she looked very youthful, Neville explaining to him that she was, "A few weeks older than the Old Gods", which made him laugh quite a bit, though it was cut short when she turned and glared at the two of them, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"This is your room, Mr. Potter," the short elf said, stopping in front of a large, dark wood door with a heavy knob, likely made of solid gold, if he was correct. Nodding to the two of them, he opened the door, nearly dropping his bags as he took a good look at his room.

If he thought that his room in the Granger household was something, this was a dream. There as a sitting room, a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a door that likely led to his bathroom. Floor to ceiling windows took up an entire side of the sitting room, which was filled with many neutral tones, nothing to overpowering besides a giant red wall, likely a salute to Gryffindor house. His favorite thing about the room was its giant fireplace, a plush recliner sitting directly in front of it, though it could swivel to face the window if he wanted it to, in order to look out into the grounds, giving him a spectacular view of Rhodes.

Making his way to his bathroom, he smiled when he saw what looked to be a sunken in tub, adorned with several taps much similar to the prefects bathroom, the taps containing different scented soaps. Next to it was a shower with a waterfall shower head, as well as several interchangeable heads. Toiletries were stocked for him and there were several monogrammed towels that seemed especially made for him. The tiles beneath his feet were warm, likely kept that way by a heating and stasis charm, which was his favorite part about the place.

"Holy shit." If his bathroom and sitting room were amazing, he didn't know what to call his bedroom. A large bed was situated in the middle of the room, the headboard mounted to the wall. There was a large window on the side of his room, a platform in front of it that held a desk and a rather comfortable leather chair. It was also stacked with any stationary items he would likely require, Hedwig sleeping in her cage in the corner of the room. Beside his bed were two solid nightstands, each holding what looked like a lamp, which was odd, as electricity didn't work well in the wizard world. Sighing, he left the rest of the room to imagination, decidedly tired after the long journey, more than ready to get some rest. Lying down fully clothes, he kicked off his shoes and got comfortable, readying himself to drift off.

…

"Well if it isn't my precious Adad." Hermione felt yerself tensing as she entered the room she passed by on her way to find her grandmother. That voice, there was no mistaking it for anything else. It held the coolness of even the most heartless Slytherin, as well as deep in timbre. It was her father's voice, one that once haunted her dreams at night. He had stopped speaking to her for years, called her a failure and a disappointment to the Dimitriou name, that her grandfather was likely rolling in his grave, embarrassed to even call her his blood.

"Father," she said, taking a deep breath as she prepared herself for an insult, a sneer, anything that usually came out of his mouth. But surprisingly, there was nothing. Nothing came. He simply stared at her, giving nothing away as usual.

She could see the pull of her father. As she had remembered him, he was a very handsome man. His black hair was nothing short of immaculate, falling in loose waves to his broad shoulders. His skin was pale, almost as of ot were made of porcelain. Strongly built, shed listened to many women fawn over the, "strong and handsome creature" that was her father. His most striking features were his eyes, stormy and blue, colder than a summer in Siberia. These were the eyes of a madman, a monster, a _murderer._ But they were also the eyes of her father, a man who she worshiped. He was everything to her and in a split second, he became nothing.

"Your grandmother told me of your visit and I felt it would be rude of me not to welcome my beautiful daughter home. My _prinkípissa_ has returned to us at last. Your mother would be elated, may she rest well." Anyone who didn't know any better would assume that he was just a concerned father, speaking to his daughter for the first time in years, but she knew better. She could read between the lines. He couldn't have cared less that she was back or if she _ever_ came back. But now that she was, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she suffered.

Calling her _prinkípissa,_ what her mother would call her when she was a small child, her princess. He had never called her that, he even made sure that it was known how much he detested it. It was his way of calling her _weak,_ not worthy of the name that he had so _generously_ given her and allowed her to keep. But she would not play his game.

"Thank you for your welcome, Father. It's not often that I come home, so it's nice to know that you welcome me and my guests with open arms." There it was, the rising of a thick brow, though he corrected it quickly, schooling his features into one of knowing. Jocasta hadn't told him about Harry and Neville, which meant that he assumed that she had come alone.

"Ah yes. The boy," he said, miraculously managing to keep all signs of distaste from his voice. When she was younger, she remembered being friends with Neville, but it was very vague, almost as if she were remembering an old pet of sorts. Certain objects triggered more vivid memories, but she never got a true feel of how she was towards him in her primary years. From what she did remember, her father didn't like him very much. He said that he was wet, lanky, clumsy, and full of mucus. Coughing, she offered him a curt nod, promptly dismissing herself. He was tame, almost _too_ tame if she was completely honest with herself. She would keep an eye on him, though there wasn't much he could truly do. **(Famous last words, precious Adad.)**

As she was leaving the room, she made sure to close the door tightly, pulling out her want to cast a locking charm on the room when a cleared throat caught her attention. Turning, she came face to face with Neville, who was eyeing her, then the door with curiosity. Sliding her wand into her pocket, she smiled, setting a mental note to come back and lock the door later, as to not look so suspicious.

"I'm so glad you decided to come along to Rhodes with Harry and I, Neville. I honestly believe that everything is going to change after this summer. We're going to have to grow up. I don't know about you, but I want to stay young for as long as I can." After being caught trying to lock her father's portrait in the sitting room, she invited Neville to help her look for her grandmother.

"You know I wouldn't miss spending the summer with you. Mrs. Weasley is great, but I trust Nan's judgement." Smiling, she pushed her hair out of her face, her eyes scanning the corridor. "Plus," he started, peeking his head into a door. "I missed the place." That made her shoulders fall slightly.

"It's rather odd, being back here," she said, opening the doors i the main breakfast area, revealing Jocasta Dimitriou, sipping tea in her wingback chair. Her eyes lifted slowly, watching the two of them with slight curiosity as they sat on either side of her.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione smiled, reaching over to the plate piled high with pastries, grabbing onto a loaf of Earl grey tea cake. Harry was likely enjoying his room, lounging around and staring out the window. Neville gave her grandmother an answer, accepting a cup of tea from the old woman, her eyes seeming to peer into his very soul.

"Giagia," Hermione started pressing her hand to her lip. "I wanted to ask you something in my last letter, but with everything that's been happening, I didn't want to it to be intercepted." Jocasta gave her granddaughter a concerned look, definitely curious about what could be so important that she couldn't even put it in a letter.

"When I was attacked at the Department of Mysteries," she started, Neville's eyes widening as he looked over to her, straightening his posture. After her hospital stay, Hermione had wanted to move past the incident, past the curse that he still took a series of potions to combat the effect of. "A Friend of our was hurt," she continued, taking a moment to chew her food. "His name is Sirius Black."

"The escaped murderer from the papers?" Hermione, he is a wanted fugitive, how could you involve yourself with such-"

"You can drop the act, I know he's innocent." If one had not been watching her, they would have missed the quick smile she sent her granddaughter's way, waving her hand and allowing her to continue. "Sirius wa hit with a very odd curse and no one knows what it was. It was so loud, I didn't even heat the incantation, but people thought he was dead."

"But you knew he wasn't" It wasn't a question, more for a statement,. Having been exposed to the Dimitrious family magic,she knew that they always know when a person was dead. Id Adad said that a person was not dead, they were not dead, there was no denying t. Clearing her throat, she nodded. "You want to see your grandfather's collection." The small nod she got in response was enough Watching as the older woman took a deep breath, Hermione felt that she had lost all hope before she got a whispered, "Okay."

 **Please don't beat me up. I know I'm late, you don't have to tell me. It's just that honestly, though a good amount of people follow this, I don't really get much feedback and its a little disheartening.**


	10. Temper

"This feels wrong." Hermione looked over at Harry, his wet hair sticking to his forehead as he blindly searched through the large collection of books that Jocasta had led them to.

"It's likely the sheer amount of Dark magic we're reading through. I've never seen such sick practices," Neville said, flipping through the pages of the book in his hands. Even though they had been pre sorted by Hermione, it didn't take much to realized that the Dimitrious before her were a bunch of very…. _ambitious_ people who were willing to do any and everything to make themselves more powerful than all others, whether it be through means of murder and sacrifice, or it was through means of enslavement, they had done it. He'd never been so relieved to see someone disgusted-no matter how minimally- by something he'd shown them as he was when he showed Hermione a ritual that had involved drinking blood from an infant's skull.

There's no such thing, by the way." They both looked up, seeing her flipping through her book in boredom. Feeling their eyes on her, she looked up, seeming to make eye contact with the both of them.

"Magic in and of itself can be neither dark nor light, that is just propaganda created by different governments to instill fear in magic users so that they won't do something stupid to get themselves and innocent people killed. Human beings have to be closely monitored when using magic because we are too irrational and curious for our own goods. The magic is never evil, it it those who choose to do evil with magic that are evil. If that were the case, the unforgivables could be used legally in the right situations. But they can't." They continued to watch her as she went back tp flipping through her book. That statement led to a long silence, both boys contemplating the words that she had spoken

"I'm not really finding anything helpful about this either, but that's not what I meant." Harry turned the pages of his book, his eyes drinking in the words spelled out there. Nothing seemed to be of any use and he was losing faith. What if Sirius never woke up? His books weren't so bad, but still bad. Hermione had been specific about what he was allowed to see, as the obvious connection he shared with the enemy was nothing to be taken lightly, especially when it involved the practices of a people that would definitely give Voldemort a run for his money.

"Well what did you mean?" Hermione didn't even look up from the tome she was reading, Harry taking the time to study her. Where she had once studied hunched over a desk, furiously scribbling away at notes she'd laid out on her desk, she was different. She truly looked as if she owned the place. Comfortably seated in the chair that occupied her grandmother's bedroom, she lazily skimmed through a book so filled with dark magic, that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The light filtering through the windows made her eyes seem almost golden, complimenting her pale skin very well. She was also beginning to develop freckles from sitting in her sunroom to watch the rise of the morning sun. It was where they had found her to inform her that her grandmother had gathered all of the books she'd requested.

"Your grandmother," he started, running his hands across the book in his lap. "She seemed very reluctant to give you these books, Hermione." He watched as she froze, her bottom lip disappearing into her mouth as she stared at her book, though it was clear that she was not reading it.

"What about this? It says we kill him first, then we sacrifice a dove and bring him back to life. It even says he'll come back with an added boost of power." Hermione frowned at the book Neville held in his hands. Her eyes scanned the page, widening as she watched the words begin to rearrange themselves. Grabbing it from him, she sighed, running a hand through her hair before doing the same to Harry's books, only to receive the same results.

"Damnit," she swore softly, flipping through the book. All of the words seemed to be having a party. "They've been enchanted. You can't actually read these, he placed a familial enchantment on them." Standing, she gathered every book she had issued, hoisting them into her arms and carrying them to the back of the study, where they had originally been. Leading them out of the room, she closed the door behind herself.

"She's afraid of what will happen if I read them." Harry jumped, waiting for her to continue. Neville had split from the group, Hermione having had watched him with a concerned look, but she continued on without a word until she had just spoken.

"Those books contain dark material, likely much darker than what you thought you'd seen. There's a certain pull to act on such dark urges, and not many people in my family have been willing to resist these urges. That's just how strongly they desire power, though they all have different reasons for doing such. I may seem sure of myself, harry, but even I have no earthly idea how prolonged exposure to these books will affect me." His eyes met hers and he could tell that there was something she wasn't saying, something she wasn't telling him about the books and their effects, but she didn't look as if she wanted to disclose that information.

Once the two of them had separated, Hermione made her way towards the front of the house, where the garden was. Similar to Neville, her grandmother had a penchant for plants, though she new that his gift stemmed from his familial magick, which was a oneness with the Earth. It was her mother's familial magick, mut she had developed her father's ability to toy with the mind. The memories Adad had of her great-grandfather were scarce and only from stories that her grandmother had told her as a child, and he was not a very nice man. He was the one that had introduced her to Sidero Dimitriou and decided that they were to be wed as soon as possible. Stavros' birth came shortly after and it was downhill from there.

"Hello, Adad." She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her grandmother's voice, turning to the left to see the woman standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face as she watched her. Sighing, she shook her head, making her way over to the sitting area, her mind replaying all the times she had watched her grandmother and Augusta laugh and joke while her grandfather looked along in amusement. Sitting, she only spoke when Jocasta made herself comfortable in her own chair.

"I'm worried about Neville," she said, watching as the older woman nodded, pressing her fingers to her lips, a sign that she was concentrating. When she said nothing, Hermione spoke again.

"Did you do what I asked? Did you listen when you spoke to him?" It had been a desperate request that she'd sent by letter before they arrived to the train station, but she needed to know. A part of Jocasta's magick was that she had the ability to both see and hear the thoughts of others, even if the person whose thoughts she listened to didn't give her permission to do so, though she rarely took advantage of that gift. She said that it was a gross misuse of her abilities, but desperate times called for desperate measures and despite all that had happened, Hermione was concerned about her friend.

"He has very dark thoughts," the old woman started, seemingly picking her words carefully. "He wants revenge for the death of his grandmother and he wants it badly, but I don't think that he knows it yet. It goes far beyond simple grief and that is the reason that I did not want you reading those books, Adad." She sighed, knowing that Jocasta meant business. "To expose a mind so vulnerable to magic so powerful and oftentimes dark is not a good idea. I understand that you want to help your friend, but _you_ need to help your friend. You and your brother. Neville needs not be involved with helping the likes of Sirius Black." She was confused by her grandmother's words. It was almost as if she was saying that _Sirius_ of all people would be the one to lead Neville to darkness.

"You're absolutely right," she said as she looked up, opening her mouth to say something, eyes widening when she realized that not only had her grandmother up and left, but that Neville was standing in the doorway, a look of fury written across his face that told her that he had heard everything. "Neville! I can explain! We were just-" He held up a hand, which stopped her immediately.

" _You're absolutely right?!_ What the FUCK, Hermione?! What, am I _not smart enough_ to help you and Harry figure out what's wrong with Sirius? Not brave enough?! Where the bloody _fuck_ do you get off making decisions for me?" She didn't know whether to be mortified or relieved in that moment. If what he said was true, then he hadn't heard that she'd asked her grandmother to root around in his mind for information. Clearing her throat, she rose to her feet.

"Neville, you're going through a lot and I didn't want to add any more on your plate. I understand that you can make your own decisions, but it seems like you're just trying to find something to take your mind off of the fact that you are hurting. I know how loss can be, it can eat you whole if you hold it in for too long, and when it comes out, it's almost never pretty. I didn't want that to happen to you, so I figured-"

"I DON'T NEED YOU TO MAKE DECISIONS FOR ME!" She jumped at the volume of his voice, resisting the strong urge to grab her wand. "I can make decisions on my own! I'm the head of my bloody house for Merlin's sake! I don't need you or Harry to hold my bloody hand, and if you actually took the time to _ask_ me that instead of doing what _you_ think is best for me, then maybe you would know that!" She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to come out.

"Save it," he said, turning on his heels and storming off, leaving her to stand there in silence, unaware of what to do about her current predicament. Letting her head fall back, she ran a hand through her hair, mentally counting the days that he parents would be back.

 **Harry**

It was odd, seeing Hermione in such a melancholy mood. He'd been in his room when he heard muffled shouting and then the slamming of a door. Not even five seconds later, his ears were greeted with the most pathetic knock he had ever heard in his life. Opening the door, he came face to face with his sister and best friend, stepping to the side as she entered and draped herself across the sofa in his sitting room, which was where she remained nearly a half hour after arriving.

"Why do I have to fuck everything up, Harry? It's like I get presented with an opportunity to help someone, and instead of going with my brain's command that I mind my business, I just leap and 'help' people. Hermione Granger has a stronger hold on me than I thought." He chuckled as she lifted her head to allow him a seat before resting it in his lap.

"I take it you and Neville are having a hard time agreeing with one another." She nodded, running a tired hand across her face

"Neville heard me tell my grandmother that she was right when she suggested that Neville not help us while we try to do something about Sirius. Then, like an idiot, I told him that he was using it as an excuse not to mourn the loss of his grandmother properly." He raised an eyebrow as she sat up, turning to face him, her eyes watering, bottom lip trembling.

"Neville hates me!" Tears began to slide down her face, and in that moment, Harry saw his friend. Not Adad Dimitriou, but Hermione Granger, the girl so afraid of failure and rejection that it drove her to tears on multiple occasions, especially when she didn't know what to do to fix something that she had broken.

"While I don't agree with what you did, I kind of agree with what your grandmother was saying as well, though wouldn't go so far as to stop Neville from doing a good thing. Recently, Neville's been a bit temperamental, and while I understand that feeling, it makes me worry. You saw how much of a twat I was this year, I can't imagine how he's feeling. He's lost everyone that was important to him and his oldest friend just told him that he isn't good enough to help bring back someone who is important to her." He could see that his words weren't helping her mood, but it was something she needed to hear. She was very silent for a while, and he could tell she was trying to decide whether or not she should tell him something. After what seemed like much deliberation, she turned him and opened her mouth.

"Harry, I did something. Something that I shouldn't have done, that I had no right to do." He felt dread pool in the pit of his stomach as sh fiddled with her fingers, eyes lowered to the floor. Clearing her throat, she continued.

"Do you remember when we first arrived to Greece and you and Neville went to the sweets shop to get snacks for the train and I said that I had to go to the post office to get postcards?" He nodded, remembering how anxious she was to go for something so ridiculous and her insistence that she wanted to go alone. "Well, I didn't go for that." He waited for her to finish, remembering what was obviously faked enthusiasm, but when he asked why she seemed so bummed, she said that the post office had run out of the post cards that she had wanted and she was stuck with standard tourist ones. He'd bought it and so had Neville, both writing it off as simple disappointment.

"I went to send a letter to my grandmother. I asked her," she started, her words catching in her throat, though the tremor was telling. "I told her to root around in Neville's head when we arrived at the train station to see what he was really thinking. That's why I separated myself from the group when we got there. I knew she was just a few people behind us, but I didn't want to look guilty when she looked through his innermost and personal thoughts. I would have immediately given myself away. I know it was wrong, but I was desperate, you have to believe me!" She looked up at him and he could definitely tell that the guilt had been eating her up inside. Though he wanted to comfort her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, he couldn't.

"Hermione, you can't tell Neville this." After her confession, she went into detail about what Jocasta had told her about neville's thoughts, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline when she mentioned revenge for the murder of Augusta. While wanting revenge was a normal reaction, he never expected _Neville_ to want it.

In that moment, it all made sense. Jocasta didn't want them to read the books because of _Neville_ , not Hermione. Hermione said herself that many of her relatives, strong sorcerers with the ability to withstand handling dark magic as if it were nothing, as well as the magic of Death itself, were all tempted to partake in the magic in the books. Neville would stand no chance. He would have found a way to get revenge against whoever murdered the last of his family and _Hermione_ would have given him everything she needed. They said once a wizard took a life, there was no going back to the Light. The guilt of that would have driven Hermione mad, and she would have constantly blamed herself for Neville going bad.

Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair, looking around his lavish bedroom with slight fondness as he pondered over his thoughts, He needed a drink.

"My grandfather's collection of old Muggle alcohol is in the cellars," Hermione offered. Groaning, he hadn't realized he said that aloud. Drinking was something he didn't want to become a habit, but it was a surprisingly calming activity. Back when he was in Surrey, about a week after he had come home,there was a night that the Dursleys had a house party and he wasn't allowed to come. Petunia had implemented a "no fighting" policy in the house after learning that Dudley had high blood pressure, which she attributed to be due to stress and not the colossal amount of food he consumed.

The summer before his fourth year, Vernon had allowed Dudley to try a glass of some expensive kentucky bourbon that he simply referred to as 'the good stuff'. After one sip, Dudley was crying, saying that it burned his throat. After almost dying and being possessed in the DoM, Harry really didn't care if Petunia didn't want them to fight or not, but it was an opportunity for him to experience one reckless thing. He offered Vernon a deal. One glass of "the good stuff" and he would go to his room with no fuss, and would stay there the entire night, as well as clean up after the party. It was too good of an opportunity for Vernon to pass up, and he took it, so that was how he spent the night of the party, tipsY in his room. Now, he had a taste for it.

It also helped him get closer to his uncle, if only to learn better ways to get what he wanted out of him. Throughout the week, Vernon would invite him to have a glass when Petunia went to bed, but would make him promise that not a soul was to know about it. He still despised him, but he didn't hate him as viciously, and that was something.

Motioning for Hermione to lead the way, he followed her to the end of the hall, watching as she waved her wand over a set of bricks in the end, revealing an archway almost like the entry to Diagon Alley. A quick journey down the hallway revealed a set of stairs and she began what was likely a long descent.

"Whoa." When they finally reached the bottom, he was met with a large area, similar to what he saw in most muggle movies set in medieval times. It was grander than the Great hall, and the walled were lined with barrels and barrels of what he believed to be ancient spirits, both Muggle and magical. There were grand tables as well, all decorated beautifully. A stone platform separated a part of the room from the rest and he could see that she gravitated towards it, climbing the six steps to reveal a grand sitting area, a large, circular table situated in the middle.

"Is that-"

"Yes."

He watched as her fingers trailed along the intricate designs carved into a dark stone, one which he doubted he had ever seen before. "I thought that the descendent of king Arthur would own the table. Wasn't it his? She nodded, a small smile on her face. "He has to earn it." His eyes bugged out of his head.

"You _know_ the descendent of King Arthur?!" She scoffed, nodding. as she turned to leave the table.

"Yeah, he's a bit daft if I do say so myself. A complete dunce at times." She chuckled, almost as if it were some joke that he doubted he'd ever get.

"Do you think you could introduce me to him?" He felt his heart beating in anticipation of her answer, watching as her shoulders shook with mirk, her head shaking from side to side.

"Trust me, Harry. You will most definitely meet him when the time is right." He watched her smile falter slightly before she stepped off of the final step, leaving the conversation behind her.

"This is the muggle collection. Take what you want, I'll be over here." He watched as she made her way over to the closest table to them, stretching her arms over her head once she was seated. He winced at the sound of several of her bones popping, but it seemed to have her content. Their time in Greece was getting to both good and bad starts, and he had no other choice than to hope for the future.

 **Hello all! I've been away for a while, life has been really kicking my ass. To all of those who stuck around, I really appreciate. I have also reposted this story on ao3, so if anyone sees it out there, that is me, though it's probably obvious. My readers on ao3 are really helpful and I really appreciate them because their reviews and kudos inspire and motivate me to put out more content, as I was actually going to abandon this story before I put it on there because it didn't seem like anyone liked it. I know they say people should write for themselves, but honestly, that's a load of bullshit. I write for my readers, and if my readers don't enjoy my content I shouldn't waste my time on shitty content. They ask questions, tell me if they're lost or confused, and it's very refreshing.**


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